The God of Death: Black Beginning
by I Am Atrocity
Summary: Voldemort kidnapped Harry that fateful Hallowe'en night and raised him up as his assassin. Years later, Harry is sent on a mission that will change the Wizarding World forever. Treachery and ambition go hand-in-hand, and no one is safe. Beset on all sides, Harry must fight to survive and carve his name on the face of history with a legacy of fire and blood.. DARK!Harry.
1. Black Beginning

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter or and affiliated works.**

 **A/N:** **Now, there are a few things to note with this story. One, Voldemort does not look like the film versions, as he had not been destroyed and then resurrected. He looks like the actor before the effects are added. So, just picture Ralph Fiennes, and you'll have it. Second, this will not be a pretty story. It will be dark, and dreary, and at times downright brutal. Not to say there won't be any humor or anything like that, just that the overall tone is rather bleak. So, if none of that turns you away, please continue.**

 **Oh, and there will be times that Harry seems like he is going light on us...fear not, it won't last.**

 **Now, this first chapter is just to feel out the reception of this idea, a pilot episode if you will, so please let me know what you think in the comments.**

 **Now, enjoy!**

 **THE GOD OF DEATH**

 **Part One: Atra Incipere**

 **"To be sure, I am a forest, and a night of dark trees; but he who is not afraid of my darkness will find banks full of roses under my cypresses." -** **Friedrich Nietzsche**

 **"I am not what happened to me. I am what I choose to become." - Carl Jung**

 **I. Atra Incipere (Black Beginning)**

Darkness. To most, it is frightening. Suffocating. To him, it was all he had ever known. To him, it was home. In the darkness he found solace and warmth, the feelings others found in the sun or in their loved ones; but not him. He had no loved ones. He had no family. He had never felt love in any form or fashion. And it was due to this lack of gentle affection, that his heart had become as barren and cold as the room in which he now resided.

The chamber was silent, save for the steady _drip, drip, drip,_ of water echoing as it fell from the uneven rocky ceiling into a small gathering pool on the just as rocky and uneven floor. That, and the slow, rhythmic breathing of the young man sitting, unmoving in the center of the pitch-black chamber. His eyes were closed, and his back was straight and rigid; his hands rested gently on his knees, half opened. Above his right hand, his wand floated, spinning in a slow, graceful circle like the hands of a clock.

As was his daily ritual, he would sit here in the darkness, below the earth, and meditate on himself. On his life. Past, present, and future. He did this every day upon waking, for hours at a time. Though it never felt like so long to him. He would often become so lost in the past that time seemed to fade away completely.

Today was one such day.

 **XXXX**

For the longest time, he had never seen the sun, nor felt its warm rays upon his skin. When he was born, it was inside, locked away from the outside world. In hiding. Not that he had any actual memory of his birth or early years; No one really does, and he was no exception.

His parents, if one could call them that, had hidden themselves away from the world, long before his conception. They were afraid, you see. Afraid of _him_. The Dark Lord, Voldemort, and his army of death and terror - the Death Eaters. His power spread through the British Isles like a plague and soon to the continent as well. Though he lacked the sheer numbers to overthrow the Ministry at the time, all who opposed him were swiftly cut down just the same; and none dared to speak his name, for fear that this act alone would draw his attention to them. It was a bit absurd, but the idea of placing a taboo on the name had come up a few times at meetings, though it was never accepted. Voldemort didn't care if people said his name, so long as they _feared_ it; it was his followers who seemed to take offense at people speaking his name.

His parents had been part of an underground resistance group known as the Order of the Phoenix, and along with the rest of its members they were amongst Voldemort's fiercest foes. So much a thorn in his side that he eventually targeted them specifically. He killed his father's parents, and sent their dismembered corpses to his doorstep in a burlap sack as a warning. It was the next day that his mother and father were moved to a secured safe house, where none but their closest comrades could find them.

And there they stayed, for several months. Then it was learned his mother was pregnant, and the number of people who could find them was reduced to three. Alas, even this added measure of safety was to be for naught. One of this number would prove to be false in their allegiances, and the location of their safe house was leaked to Voldemort's camp.

It was on Halloween night, a year after his birth, that the Dark Lord came for them.

He came alone, in the dead of night, long after the rest of the Isle was asleep, to the quaint, ancient little village of Godric's Hollow. He had strode silently up the front walkway and with barely a flick of his wrist, sent the door bursting into splinters with a sound much like a muggle gunshot.

His mother and father had awoken and rushed down the stairs to see what the ruckus was all about, only to find the dark, hooded figure waiting for them in the entryway, wand in hand, ready to deliver the final punishment to the two who had plagued him and his forces for so long.

They traded curses and spells. His father, he was told, was a renowned duelist, not quite champion level but noted at least, and held his own quite admirably for a few short minutes. His mother was not so skilled, but offered some support in the form of distractions and the like; a small hex here, a levitated piece of furniture there and no small amount of shielding. Together they were quite an effective team.

The fight moved through the house and eventually his parents led Voldemort outside. But, out in the open with no cover, Voldemort proved to be the better fighter both in speed and skill but also in sheer power, and his parents were forced to retreat. Thus they apparated away, leaving him behind in the house all alone and crying in his crib on the second floor.

They had abandoned him.

It would be false to say they both did so without thought or care. His mother had insisted that they retrieve him first, but with Voldemort between them and the house, his father made the choice and so, by means of forced side-along apparation, they left him behind at the mercy, or lack thereof, of the Dark Lord.

The Dark Lord, seeing his prey flee beyond his reach once again, was incensed. He turned and stormed back into the house, prepared to blast everything in sight into kindling in a fit of rage, but he stopped short, frozen with his wand raised and the words of the Fiendfyre curse on his lips as he heard the frightened cries of the babe upstairs.

He mounted the stairs and ascended, following the sound of the wails across the landing until he found a small nursery with a small, dark haired child sitting in a simple polished wooden cradle.

The child fell silent as the dark figure entered the room, his mere presence filling the room completely. His shadow fell upon the child, and he was silhouetted by the light from the landing outside the room. He gazed coldly, but curiously down at the infant, who's chubby little hands clutched at the rails of his cradle. He approached the child, who looked up at him with wide eyes. His arm rose over the rail and the tip of his wand touched lightly against the boy's round cheek. Without missing a beat, the child reached up and grasped the wand as if it were a toy, or a finger, as babies are wont to do, and giggled. Voldemort sneered and his lips began to move, forming the first syllables of the killing curse's incantation. However, he again stopped short, a new thought entering his keen mind.

He lowered his wand and returned it to its place within his cloak. His pale hands reached in and plucked up the child, lifting him easily from out of the cradle. The infant whimpered quietly at his touch but, to his credit, did not cry out at Voldemort brought them face-to-face, his cold pale eyes meeting bright emerald.

Voldemort smiled. He would keep this child. If for no other reason than it would hurt his enemies where they were weakest; their hearts. But there were other reasons, reasons unknown to all but the Dark Lord himself...

He glided back down the way he had come, the child tucked securely against his breast. As he went, he cast the Fiendfyre curse, which slithered forth from his wand in the form of a dozen serpents, consuming the house and everything in it in his wake.

He exited the house and did not stop until he stood across the property line, at which point he turned about to view the now blazing inferno that had all but engulfed the entire house. It was but a few moments later that the house creaked and collapse in a shower of fire and sparks, which drifted up into the dark sky like a flurry of fireflies dancing on the breeze.

The small child laughed and clapped his tiny hands at the dazzling display, not understanding the destruction he was witnessing.

Voldemort smiled down at the child and ended his curse. The flames continued to burn, but they were no longer the demonic flames of the Fiendfyre, merely the dancing tongues of the typical, mundane variety. But, though they were not magic in any fashion, they were just as glorious and all-consuming as those spewed forth from a dragons maw. Or so Voldemort thought as he gazed at the ruins of his enemies' 'safe house'. He had dealt a serious blow to his foes this day; he had crippled their hope and sense of security.

As the fires burned low, Voldemort finally turned and apparated himself and the now-sleeping child away from the scene. It would not be long before the boy's parents would return with their friends from the Order in tow. But by then, the Dark Lord and his new captive were long gone, leaving no trace, save for the smoldering ruin.

And that is what the boy was, a captive; at least at first.

Voldemort had intended to use the boy as leverage against his enemies. Hold his life over their heads with intent to kill him if they continued to oppose him. But, this plan was not to hold up very long. Soon, the boy found his way into what must have been the sole remaining soft spot in the Dark Lord's heart, for he made the choice to keep him close, and viewed the boy as near to his own as could be possible for the malicious being that had once been Tom Marvolo Riddle.

His first real memory, all previous having been shown to him when he was in his early teens within a Pensieve by Voldemort, was his first kill. He was five years old. Voldemort had ordered he be brought to the 'great hall' of his hideout, which was actually the dining room of Malfoy Manor. He remembered being escorted in by the Carrow twins, who walked beside and slightly behind him, each with a hand on his shoulders. They were his guardians, his bodyguards and they took their jobs very seriously; or were they his keepers? He could not rightly remember anything before that day.

Voldemort was waiting there, sitting on his throne, which was actually just a highly ornate, dark wood chair, with an expression that was almost a smile, save that it was filled with malice and absent of any and all warmth.

"Ah, there you are, my boy," the Dark Lord said, standing from his makeshift throne, his smile looking a tad more genuine now. "Come, come." He beckoned and the child went to him without a trace of fear or any other feeling.

Voldemort's hand brushed against the boy's hair gently, then settled on his small shoulder, giving it a small squeeze.

"Today is a very important day, my son," he said. "Today, you shall take your place amongst us. Today, you shall become one of my Death Eaters."

The boy looked around him at the gathered throng of black-robed witches and wizard. He spotted a few familiar faces smiling at him. The Carrows were close by nodding encouragingly. Bellatrix LeStrange smiling with gleeful anticipation. Peter Pettigrew, his parents' old friend turned Judas, leering in a rat-like manner. Lucius Malfoy gazing at him curiously. Barty Crouch Jr., who's face was near-unreadable before, but now watching him with great interest and Regulus Black, his expression blank, standing just behind the other man.

He looked back to Voldemort, who was watching him understandingly. "Do not be afraid," he spoke kindly, which was a weird thing to hear. "There is nothing to fear."

He turned to one of the Death Eaters and nodded. The throng split and two hooded figures strode forth, supporting a third figure between them.

It was a woman, approximately sixty years of age, she appeared very weak and frail, barely able to stand without the support of the two wizards beside her. He recognized her immediately. Walburga Black, patroness of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. She was Bellatrix's aunt, and his own relative, though exactly what she was too him he was unsure. Aunt? Great Aunt? Cousin? What did it matter?

He looked at the old woman and then back to Voldemort questioningly.

Voldemort smiled. "Walburga here has graciously volunteered to be your first kill."

He was shocked to hear this. They wanted him to kill her? Why? What had she done do deserve that? And why did he have to do it?

Walburga must have seen the look on his face, for she spoke softly, her voice barely more than a whisper. "Now, now, child. Don't fret none. I am old, and dying. You will be doing me a kindness." Those words struck a chord with him and would stay with him for the rest of his life.

"But why must _I_ do it?" he asked.

"Because," she stopped as a coughing fit overtook her. Once she had regained her breath, she continued, her voice barely audible. "You have to _earn_ it. The Mark." The boy looked at her arm, where he knew the symbol of skull and serpent, the Dark Mark, lay branded into her flesh. "With this, this mercy killing, you do a service to myself and my family. I am of no use to anyone anymore. I cannot fight, I cannot lead. I can not even stand on my own any longer. You must kill me, so that the next in line may step up and lead our noble family."

He wasn't sure who she meant when she said 'the next in line'. Her only remaining sons were Regulus and Sirius, Sirius had been disowned long ago, and was now a key member of the Order of the Phoenix and Regulus was here with them; did she mean Regulus then? He looked to the young man, whose dark hair fell long around his face and whose dark eyes were watching intensely. He didn't say anything, so he must have passed on the role of Head to someone else. But who? Perhaps Lucius would take over, being married to Narcissa, who was a Black by birth, and being of richer stock than Bellatrix's husband.

He was brought out of this train of thought by the feeling of something being pressed into his hand. He looked down to find a sliver of light wood between his fingers. He felt a rush of energy pulse through him and rush of wind through his hair. The dual sensation left him breathless.

"Ah, excellent," Voldemort breathed. "This, my boy, is your new wand; eleven inches, made from holly, with a phoenix feather core. One of a kind. Well, almost. You see, your wand, and mine own, share something in common." He knelt down so that he was eye-to-eye with the young boy. "The core. They are the same. Phoenix feather. From the same bird, no less. I give this to you, as a mark of our _connection._ From _father_ to _son._ " He looked into the emerald eyes of his once-prisoner, a paternal smile on his face. The boy smiled back and nodded his thanks, unable to form words at the moment. Voldemort returned the nod and stood back to his full height. "Now, your first spell. I shall teach it to you."

He stepped behind the boy and grasped his wand arm, raising it until it was pointed directly at Walburga, who shook off the two Death Eaters holding her up, with a look of stoic determination. Using what must have been her last reserves of strength, she stood up to her full height, head held high and proud, her shoulders squared.

"It is a simple enough incantation." He let go of the boys arm. "Repeat after me: _Avada Kedavra._ "

The child looked up at Walburga, who had a contented expression on her age-scarred face. Reassured of her willingness, he swallowed, cleared his throat and uttered the words that would change his life forever. " _Avada Kedavra_."

A burst of sickly green light shot forth from his new wand, and impacted into Walburga's chest. She stood, as if stunned for a short moment, though her expression had not changed, then fell heavily to the floor. Dead.

The events that followed were a blur. He remembered being lifted up off the ground and spun about by Voldemort, who rained praise upon him. He remembered Bellatrix planting a small kiss upon his cheek with the words _"you're a man, now"._ He remembered Walburga's body being carried away by four Death Eaters. He remembered Regulus pressing a ring into his hand with an unreadable expression on his young face; a ring with the crest of the House of Black set into it. And he remembered the searing pain of the Dark Mark being magically branded into the skin of his left arm. But most of all, he remembered the words the Dark Lord had spoken to him immediately afterward. "Rise, Harry Potter, Lord of Black, and take your place among us. Rise, my son."

 **XXXX**

 **A/N: Hello, hello! Alright, now, let me know what you think? Should I write more? Let me know. I love to hear feedback.**

 **-Atrocity.**


	2. Crucio

**A/N: First off, thank you to those of you who took the time to review. And also to those who favorited and/or followed this story.**

 **Now, a note about characters as far as appearance. I personally picture the characters as they were portrayed in the films. So, Barty Crouch Jr. looks as he did as played by David Tennant. As far as his mannerism and personality, we don't see much of it in the book, and even less in the film. So I'm cherry picking traits from various roles to put in this character. For references see the 10th Doctor from Doctor Who and Kilgrave from Marvel's AKA Jessica Jones (both portrayed by Tennant).**

 **Now, without further ado, on with the show!**

 **II. Crucio**

The sound of a heavy door banging open snapped him from his memories. He sat still, waiting for the tell-tale sound of footsteps echoing off the stone staircase that led down to his lair. A second later, it came. The steady _click click, click,_ of boot heels against stone, growing consistently louder with every step.

The gait was heavy, definitely male. If he had to guess, he would say that it belonged to Amycus Carrow. Well. It wasn't really a guess, considering he knew the sounds almost by heart. Amycus and Alecto Carrow had been at his side for most of his life, as his protectors; not that he needed them, but the Dark Lord insisted, and Harry saw no point in arguing the matter. It didn't hurt to have someone around to watch your back.

The footsteps rounded the last corner and halted on the last step, as usual. "My lord, your presence is requested." He was right, of course, it was Amycus.

"By whom?" Harry asked, still not opening his eyes.

"Your father."

The wand above his hand stopped spinning and his breath ceased. His eyes opened slowly. "I have no father, Amycus." His voice was calm, collected.

Amycus cleared his throat uncomfortably. "As you say, sir, but the Dark Lord has requested your presence all the same."

Harry sighed and plucked his wand out of the air and stood up, tucking the wand away in a holster on his left forearm. He turned toward the figure standing on the stairs, knowing that the other man could not see him. "I shall be up there momentarily. You can go now."

"Yes, my lord."

With that, the Death Eater turned and retreated back the way he came.

Harry took a deep breath and let it out slowly. His right hand's fingers brushed against the skull and serpent tattoo on his left arm, under the holster of his wand. A lot had changed since the day he had earned this mark. He was no longer the small boy he was then. He was now ten and six years, soon to be ten and seven, already a man, though not recognized as such by the Ministry. Actually, he was not considered anything by the Ministry. By their records, he had died sixteen years ago on Halloween. Killed by the fires that had consumed his birth-home. To the Wizarding World at large, Harry Potter was dead.

His schooling was done in private by the Dark Lord himself, as well as some of his Death Eaters. Severus Snape taught him Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Lucius Malfoy taught him History, Pureblood etiquette and Politics. Barty Crouch Jr. taught him Charms, as well as practically everything else. And the Dark Lord himself had taught him the Dark Arts; or at least they had until he was ten, then Barty took over all of it. He had never attended a real school, at Voldemort's request. He wanted Harry kept as a special secret. A ghost, who could go anywhere, be anyone, do anything he needed. And Harry had done these things without remorse.

Over the years, both the Death Eaters and the Order both had become less and less bold in their tactics. The fight between the dark and the light was being fought in the shadows, and the shadows were _his_ domain.

More than one soldier of the light had fallen beneath his wand. Many an idealistic politician as well; both Magical and Muggle alike. His deeds had earned him a reputation.

He started up the stairs in Amycus' wake.

It was a decently long walk from the dark hole that he called home to the 'throne room'. He had a bedroom, fully furnished and richly decorated, but he preferred the space he had built beneath the lowest dungeon of Malfoy Manor to the lavish lifestyle of the wealthy Purebloods. Lucius had protested, but Harry still always ended up down here in the depths, regardless.

When he finally reached the doors of the 'great hall', he found the Carrows and Barty waiting for him.

"There you are!" Barty exclaimed, pushing off from the wall. "We've only been waiting here an hour."

Harry shot him a look that told the older man that his complaining would get him nowhere and opened the door to the dining room.

Barty sighed and shrugged. "Ah well, wasn't that terrible an inconvenience anyway." He followed Harry inside with the Carrows a step behind.

Voldemort sat on his throne at the head of the table, his pet snake, Nagini, was curled around it, her large head resting along the top of the back. If Harry was honest, he didn't like that damned snake. It wasn't that he was afraid of snakes or anything like that, but more that it was unnerving the way the beast liked to watch him and only him when in a room full of people. Behind the throne, Pettigrew, or Wormtail as he was often called, cowered like the pathetic rat he was, averting his eyes from them all.

Harry felt disgust rising in him at the sight of the bastard that had sold out his best friends, Harry's own parents, to Voldemort to save his own skin. While, he had no love for his birth parents, he still detested the two-faced rodent.

Harry tore his eyes away from Wormtail and immediately noted that there were others already in the room. Lucius, Narcissa and Draco Malfoy were there, seated along the right side of the table. Draco sneered at Harry as he took his seat at Voldemort's left hand. Barty took his seat next to Harry, while the Carrows stood by the doors as guards.

"You summoned me, father?" Harry asked, directing his attention toward Voldemort. The word 'father' felt like venom on his lips and left a sour flavor in his mouth.

Voldemort smiled softly down at him. "Indeed I did. But, you must wait a moment longer, the others have not yet arrived."

Harry nodded and leaned back in his seat.

Barty had poured himself a glass of red wine and was languidly sipping it, not looking at all like he care there were others in the room.

Harry looked directly across the table at Lucius. "How has life been treating you, Lucius?"

"I am well," Lucius answered courteously. He had some small resentment for Harry. It wasn't personal, per se, more that he resented the privilege that Harry sported. Not that the boy flaunted it or anything, it was still a bit of a sore spot for the Malfoy patron. They were, for all intents and purposes, equals. Both heads of ancient and noble and influential pureblood families; a fact that rubbed the younger Malfoy, Draco, completely the wrong way.

Harry smiled politely. "Good."

After that, the table descended into silence. Uncomfortable silence.

Harry locked eyes across the table with Draco. A small smirk forming on his face at the disgruntled expression on the boy's pale face. Draco scowled and looked as if he wanted to say something, probably quite nasty, to Harry, but propriety held his tongue.

After a moment, Harry grew bored with the Malfoys and instead began to count the beams that supported the high ceiling.

He was at sixty when the doors to the room opened again, this time to admit a rather large group. In reality, there were only eight individuals in this new group, but in the, albeit long, dining room, it seemed a great number.

Harry counted Crabbe senior along with his son, Vincent, Goyle senior and his son, Gregory, Mr. Parkinson and his daughter, Pansy, Bellatrix LeStrange, and Severus Snape.

They all took seats at the table after bowing low to Voldemort. Harry made a quick head count and noted fourteen at the table and three standing, making the number of people in the room a grand total of seventeen. While it was not unusual for Voldemort to hold meetings with his disciples, this was a rather large number to all be present at once. Not that Vincent, Gregory, Pansy or Draco were actual Death Eaters, as they had not earned the Mark yet. So, what purpose did they serve here, he wondered. The only time there were more than this was Hallowe'en.

He looked to the Dark Lord, trusting that all would be made clear presently.

Voldemort sat looking them all over with a cold, appraising eye. Finally, after a long moment, during which there was much nervous shifting amongst the gathered assembly, save for a noticeable lack of tangible fear from Severus, he spoke in his lilting soft hiss-like voice. "Welcome, my friends. You are all probably wondering why I have summoned you all here on such short notice." Nods all around. "As you all know, the new school term at Hogwarts will be beginning soon, and young Draco, Pansy, Vincent and Gregory will be departing for their seventh and final year under Dumbledore's tutelage." He looked at each of the named persons in turn. None were able to meet his eye. "However, this time, you shall not be going alone. I have decided that Harry here will be joining you this year."

Harry's head snapped up at that. "Beg pardon?" He could not believe the words he had just heard. It must have been a mistake. He must have misheard.

Voldemort looked at him directly and spoke again, "This year, my boy, you will be attending Hogwarts with the others." His tone brokered no arguments.

Harry bit back an outburst with some difficulty and took a deep breath. He could feel his anger rising up at the thought of having to attend that school, and even more so at having to do so with Draco and his posse. "Sir... _father_ , I really must protest this decision."

Voldemort's expression did not change. "Must you? On what grounds?"

"On the grounds that I am far beyond their ilk," he gestured to the other teens, "my skills greatly surpass anything they could teach me at that damnable school."

Voldemort smiled, "Beware, my son, you verge upon hubris." He sighed. "While I admire your confidence, and wholeheartedly agree that you already possess a higher grasp of knowledge than others your age, it is not for learning that I send you into Dumbledore's domain. No," he stood and walked behind Harry's chair, placing his hands upon his shoulders and giving them a squeeze - Harry barely contained a flinch - a rare show of familiarity. "I have something altogether different in mind for you, my son." He gave Harry's shoulders a final squeeze before walking back to his seat. He did not sit. "You will kill Albus Dumbledore."

With those words he retook his seat. And pandemonium broke loose.

Snape was in shock. Bellatrix looked as if Christmas had come early, and Draco looked paler than usual, if that was possible. All at once they were all asking questions.

"How can we do that?"

"Why now?"

"What of the rest of the Order?"

"Why Harry?"

"Is that possible?"

"Can I go with him? I want to help kill Dumbledore!"

The only ones not speaking were Snape, Barty, and Harry himself. Harry was looking at Voldemort in shock. It wasn't that he was opposed to killing; no, he was accustomed to that, and had done so countless times over the years; death was something of a specialty of his. It was more of a wonder of why him? He had heard the Dark Lord say many times that Dumbledore was his only equal, and while Harry was powerful for his age, he knew that he was no match for a wizard such as Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, and he would be hard pressed to name any witch or wizard outside of Voldemort himself who might be able to stand against the man who was considered by many the world over to be the greatest living wizard in the world - the only name that came to mind was Grindelwald, whom Harry considered to be perhaps the greatest Dark Lord to ever live.

He turned and looked at Barty, hoping to find some support, but the older man was looking at him with a rather grim expression on his face, a stark contrast to his usual smirk or grin. It was then that another realization dawned on Harry.

Barty would not be coming with him this time.

For as long as he could remember, he had had a team with him on his hits. Barty, who was basically his partner in crime, and the Carrows, who were his muscle. Not that Barty wasn't intimidating. The man had a vicious streak a mile wide and twice as long and cast one of the most powerful Cruciatus Curses that Harry had ever seen. Perhaps second only to Voldemort. And, he was just scary at times.

Voldemort clearing his voice brought everyone to silence and their attention back to him. "As I was saying. This war has gone on too long, the papers hardly report on our doings anymore, and when they do, it is no longer front page news. They have grown used to us, and I fear that this means they no longer fear us. They no longer fear _me_. It is time we gave them reason to fear once again. Harry, you have proven a very efficient weapon, bringing death and terror wherever you strike, but this time will be different. You will no longer have your trusted allies at your side, and Dumbledore is unlike any target you have ever faced before."

Harry nodded. "I understand." And he did. He understood that sheer force and brutality were not going to cut it this time. This time he would have to be smart, and cunning.

Voldemort nodded. "Good. Now, you four," here he looked at Draco, Pansy, Vincent and Gregory. "You four will be his allies in this endeavor. You will aid him in any capacity that is needed. Even if that means your deaths." His voice was deadly calm, and Pansy audibly swallowed out of fear. "That is all, you may go now." Everyone made to stand. "Except you, Harry. Please stay a moment longer. Barty, you too. The rest of you, leave us at once."

The others all filed out, the Carrows closing the doors as they too stepped out, leaving just the three of them alone in the hall.

"What is it?" Harry asked after a moment, giving the others time to make it further down the corridor.

"There is one more matter for which I shall require your services before you are to depart for this mission. As I said, this battle has too long been fought out of sight of the public. I will need you two to bring us back into the light." Harry scowled at the word choice. He hated the light, in practically all of its forms. The darkness was where one truly found themselves. "I have intelligence that says the Longbottoms will be visiting Diagon Alley soon to purchase school supplies for their son, who will entering his seventh year along with you. Thank you, by the way, Severus, for this information. As you well know, the Longbottoms, Alice and Frank, are prominent members of the Order of the Phoenix, and have long been a thorn in our side. I want you to make an example of them. Publicly. In the open for all to see. Of course, you shall have to hide your faces. It would not do for you to be seen and then be recognized when you enter Hogwarts. And even if you killed as many as you could, there will always be witnesses. You can't kill all of Diagon Alley."

Barty smirked. "Well, we could bloody well try." He was only half joking.

Voldemort smiled slightly at Barty. "I admire your tenacity, Barty, but in this case, it is better to err on the side of caution. Else all of our plans could fall apart. Besides, it is not as if you have not already been fighting with anonymity. You both possess masks, I believe. So, no unnecessary bloodshed this time, Barty."

"Yes, my lord."

"I will notify you of when you shall strike as soon as a certain date is set."

Voldemort made a dismissive waving motion with his hand. The two young men stood up and bowed before heading to the door. Barty's hand was on the handle when they were stopped by the Dark Lord speaking once more.

"Oh, and Harry," Harry turned back to look at the man who had raised him. "Happy birthday, my son."

Harry smiled tightly, forcing it to look genuine. "Thank you, father." He bowed once more and then exited the room on Barty's heels, closing it firmly behind him.

The two walked in silence through the corridors of Malfoy Manor. It wasn't until they were back down in Harry's dungeon and a lamp and three torches were lit that a word was spoken. It was Barty who broke the silence.

"So, what will you do?" he asked.

Harry sat himself down on a chair that was placed in front of a simple wooden desk. "About what?" he countered, dodging the question. He knew perfectly well what Barty meant, and he had no idea, which bothered him to no end. He always had a plan.

"You know bloody well what," Barty scoffed. He paced over so that he was standing in front of the younger man, leaning back agaist the desk, looking down at Harry with his arms crossed over his chest. "Dumbledore."

Harry did not answer and instead picked up a tomb about Goblin Wars off his desk and flipped it open. Before he could even read three words, the book was struck from his hand.

"Goddammit, Harry, this is serious!"

Quick as a flash Harry was on his feet and had his wand pressed to Barty's throat. His eyes blazed with anger. Barty's face showed no fear whatsoever, and Harry absently noted the feeling of a wand pressed under his own ribs. He ignored it. Normally, he would have been curious as to who had drawn faster, but at the moment he was more focused on Barty.

"I won't be there this time if something goes wrong," Barty said, his voice even and deathly calm. "And I know perfectly well that you trust those nancies up there about as much as I do. So, put down the wand and start taking this seriously!" His voice rose a bit with the last line.

Harry glared for a moment and then sighed; the anger drained out of him as quickly as it had come. His arm fell to his side and he felt the wand tip leave his side. "I _am_ taking this seriously." He knelt down and picked up his book from where it had hit the floor after bouncing off the desk. He placed it down on the surface and sank back into his chair. He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even more than usual. "This is the single most important mission I've ever been given. And I honestly have no idea what to do."

Barty looked thoughtful. He leaned back against the edge of the desk and crossed his legs at the ankle. "If it were me infiltrating Hogwarts," he said, looking up at the ceiling with his arms crossed over his chest. "I would probably ambush one of the staff and impersonate them with Polyjuice Potion. I could do it too, you know." Harry looked doubtful. "I could," Barty insisted. "But, such a feat would be a bit beyond your particular skills, I'm afraid." Harry was inclined to agree. "When it all comes down to it, the most difficult part will be getting close enough to him to actually do the deed. Maybe-"

"Get close to him."

Barty stopped, looking confused. "Beg pardon?"

The wheels were turning in Harry's head. And the more he thought about it, the more this seemed the way to go. A small smile formed on his face as the idea cemented itself. "You just said it. I have to get _close_ to him."

Barty's eyes lit up as he caught on to what Harry was saying. "Ah! Yes! Brilliant! The old Trojan Horse! Get him to let you in, and then when he least expects it, you strike!" He grinned. "It's bloody brilliant! Glad I thought of it." He ducked, laughing as Harry threw the Goblin book at his head. "Fine, fine. You thought of it...but I inspired it."

Harry looked like he was about to chuck the desk at him, but in the end, ended up shaking his head with a roll of his eyes. There was no arguing with the man on matters like this.

 **XXXX**

They had to wait a week before word finally came that the Longbottoms were sighted in Diagon Alley. So, without a moment to waste, Harry, Barty and the Carrows donned black hooded robes and masks and apparated to Knockturn Alley, into the shop of Borgin and Burke. Without so much as a glance in the direction of the two store owners, Harry and his troupe marched out into the street, casting disillusionment charms as they went..

Of course, they had to move carefully, as they were camouflaged, not invisible. There movements could still be detected by a discerning viewer, if they looked carefully enough. Invisibility cloaks would have been the better way to go, but given the time crunch they were currently in, there had been no time to gather four of the somewhat hard-to-come-by items.

They swiftly approached the crossing where Knockturn Alley connected onto Diagon Alley proper. As per usual, the Alley was thick with witches and wizards of varying ages, all bustling about in a somewhat manageable controlled chaos. Especially, since today was the grand opening of a new joke shop: Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes; which Harry had just now discovered by noticing a flyer on the wall just outside the entrance to Knockturn Alley. But, that mattered little. If anything, it only made things better for them. More witnesses for the terror they were about to sow.

Harry and Barty were scanning the crowds for any sign of their quarry.

It was Harry who finally spotted them. Sitting around a small table outside of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, enjoying a moment to escape the mid-day heat with a cold treat and some shade.

Harry almost felt bad for them as he pointed out their location to the others. Almost. "There, at Fortescue's."

Barty and the Carrows followed his line of sight. "Ah," Barty exclaimed. "I love that place. He serves some the most delectable confections I have ever had the pleasure of trying."

"Well, we aren't here to enjoy the ice cream today, Barty. Come on, let's go."

Harry and his group wound their way through the throng of people between them and the Longbottoms. As they cleared the crowd, Harry directed the Carrows to circle around and flank the family. Harry drew his own wand and pointed it at the son, Neville, he believed his name was, and without hesitation, stunned the boy.

All at once, pandemonium broke out as Harry and the others unveiled themselves and the Carrows swiftly disabled the Longbottoms. Barty fired several killing curses into the crowd, and several witches and wizards fell where they stood. The rest were in a mad dash to get away as Harry joined him in firing at the crowd. Then, there was a sound like a firecracker as more hooded figures suddenly appeared in the alley. Harry saw one wave his wand knew that they were throwing up anti-apparation wards. At least a hundred witches and wizards were contained in a circle of Death Eaters, who all had their wands out and pointed at the crowd, silently daring any of them to try and escape or fight back. No one dared try.

Harry stalked forward to where the Carrows were binding Alice and Frank. He cast a silent body-bind on the son and then waved his wand over him to bring him back to consciousness. At first the boy was bleary-eyed and confused, then his eyes cleared and the situation became quite clear as he found himself face-to-face with a hooded, masked figure. "Hello, Neville," Harry said, his voice soft and raspy as a method of disguising it. He could have used a spell to distort the sound of his voice, but it made him somewhat hard to understand at times.

The boy struggled against the body bind, but it was of no use. He could not move, nor could he speak. All he could do was watch.

Harry smiled behind his mask. "Shh. Don't fret. It will all be over soon." He stood up and turned to where Frank and Alice were watching him with fearful eyes. But, it wasn't fear of him, but for their son. He looked down at them, then to the frightened crowd, then back. "Look at me," he told them, their eyes rose up to his masked face. "LOOK AT ME!" He screamed, this time to everyone else gathered. The crowd fell completely silent, all the whispers that had been were now gone. Silently, he cast an amplification charm on himself and resumed speaking in his soft, rasping voice. "You see before you Frank and Alice Longbottom, Aurors, and their son Neville. You know them and their heroics from the stories printed in the Daily Prophet. How they have brought down a score of dark witches and wizards, many of whom were Death Eaters. But what you may not know about them is that they are members of the Order of the Phoenix, an organized secret society that opposes our Lord, Voldemort." There was a collective flinch from the crowd and Death Eaters alike. Even among the ranks, few ever dared called him by his name; they usually called him 'the Dark Lord'. But Harry was not afraid of doing as such. He did not fear the Dark Lord as they all did.

He scanned the crowd, drinking in the fear and awe the saw there; reveling in it. His eyes fell on a middle-aged blonde witch with too much make-up on, scribbling furiously away on a pad of parchment. He strode toward her, the crowd parting before him until he was standing in front of her. She looked up at him with wide eyes, but the quill kept moving. He realized immediately that she was not writing directly, but using an enchanted quill to do it for her. He snatched the quill and parchment from her and read through it quickly. While it had gotten his words right, it painted him in a rather unfavorable light. He didn't mind, really. Any publicity was good publicity, as they say. It was only fueling his legend.

He extended the parchment back to her, though she was a bit hesitant to take it back. His patience running thin, he pushed the pad into her chest and turned away, walking back to his captives, not caring if she caught it before it fell.

"My quill!" he heard her protest and stopped, looking back over his shoulder. He held the quill up where she could see it, it wriggled rather oddly in his grasp, and with a sharp movement, snapped the quill between his fingers, letting the two splintered halves fall to the cobblestones at his feet where it flopped like a fish out of water before falling still.

"I grow weary of this," Harry said, his voice still projecting for all to hear. "Let this serve as an example to all who would oppose us." With that, he pointed his wand at Frank and intoned, " _Crucio_."

Frank screamed as he was suddenly wracked head to toe in immeasurable pain.

"FRANK!" Alice screamed before she too fell into shrieks as Barty unleashed his own hellish curse upon her.

This went on for several minutes, the crowd watching the whole time in horror as the torture continued. After five minutes, Frank's voice ceased working, but he writhed about in silent agony all the same. About a minute later, Alice's screams ceased as well.

Harry was so focused on his task that he almost didn't notice the man rush out of the crowd at him, wand drawn and a spell on his lips. But before he could utter a single syllable a red ball of light struck him in the back as Alecto fired a stunner at him. She and Amycus dragged the man forward and brought him back to consciousness.

Harry released the Cruciatus on Frank to turn to the figure kneeling at his feet. He was grungy looking, short with a balding head. His clothes looked like a bunch of old dirty blankets sewn together. He was trembling something fierce. "What is your name?"

The man spat at Harry, defiant despite his obvious fear. "Piss off!"

Harry smirked and raised his wand. "You have spirit. _Avada Kedavra_."

In a flash of green light the man fell dead.

"Search him," Harry ordered the Carrows, then went back to Frank, who lay panting in a heap. The whole time, Barty had not let up his curse on Alice. The woman was no longer moving, her eyes were glassy and unfocused and a trail of spittle was dribbling from between her lips. " _Crucio_." Frank resumed his thrashing and silent screaming, until he too ceased this. When his eyes lost their light, Harry released the curse. He motioned for Barty to do the same.

He knelt down by Frank curiously, and removing his glove and positioning his fingers close the Auror's lips. He felt breath, faint, but steady. He put his glove back on and stood. For a moment he had thought they had gone and died on him. But this was not the case. Their minds seemed to have fled though. A fate worse than death, he decided. He was satisfied. With a wave of his hand, he signaled the Death Eaters that it was time to go. They all apparated away. The wards fell and all of a sudden the Alley was filled with Aurors. But they would find nothing but a crowd of traumatized citizenry, two lifeless but living colleagues, and a sobbing teen.

 **XXXX**

 **A/N: Well, there it is, chapter two. I hope you all liked it. As always, leave me some feedback in the reviews and let me know your thoughts.**

 **Until next time, I Am Atrocity.**


	3. Stay Alive

**III. Stay Alive**

Harry looked again at the front page of the Prophet. There, plastered all over the front of the paper was a large moving image of himself and Barty, cloaked head to toe, torturing Frank and Alice Longbottom in the streets of Diagon Alley while their son watched helplessly.

Voldemort had been pleased with their work, to say the least. So much so that he had held a feast in the great hall in his and Barty's honor, calling them "True Masters of Terror" and likening them to Daemons. He had been even more pleased with the way his name, or the aliases that he was more commonly known by amongst the common rabble, was once again spoken in hushed voices and frightened whispers. Harry leaving the Longbottom boy alive was a "stroke of genius" that he himself would never have thought of doing. "Better to let him live and be a living reminder of what happened to those who opposed me," he had said.

Harry tossed the paper down on his desk and leaned back in his chair. His eyes rose up to the mask hanging there on the wall. He had worn the mask every time he left on a mission for the Dark Lord. It was often that he wondered which was really his true face. This one of flesh and bone or the other, made of wood and bits of bone. He still wasn't sure.

The mask was nothing flashy. Not like the ornate, almost ceremonial looking ones that Lucius and others of the inner circle wore, or the simple bone ones of the common Death Eater. It was a simple plate of dark wood shaped to have the general semblance of a face, with thin strips of human bone inlaid on the cheeks, extending down from the outer corner of each eye. Simple, yet memorable.

Looking at it, he remembered his next mission, one that was fast-approaching. Kill Dumbledore. He would not be able to wear the mask at Hogwarts. It would give him away. No, he had to be Harry Potter; another mask. The mask of a boy who had died when he was barely five years for this world. The day he had killed Walburga Black and taken over as Head of House Black, Harry Potter as the world had known him, the tragically dead child of Lily and James Potter, had ceased to exist. But, it seemed he was soon to be given new life. Resurrected from his tomb in the heart and mind of Harry of House Black. Harry could not even recall being _that_ Harry Potter. He possessed no memories of that time. This Harry that he would create would be a new person entirely.

Lowering his eyes back to the Prophet, he sighed. "Dobby."

There was a quiet _pop_ and suddenly a little creature with leather-like skin, big floppy ears and luminous round eyes, dressed in a simple black robe appeared out of seemingly nowhere. "Mister Harry Potter, sir, called Dobby?" He scuttled forward a bit, mismatching socks poking out from under his robe with each step.

"Yes, Dobby, I did."

"What can Dobby do for you, Mister Harry Potter Sir?" the little House Elf asked.

"Prepare me some tea, please," Harry said.

"Right away, Mister Harry Potter Sir!"

Dobby popped away to do as he was bid. It was only a short few seconds later that Dobby reappeared with a tea tray in his hands. On it was a single cup and saucer along with a steaming kettle, a small boat of honey and a smaller cup of cream. Harry took the tray from him and set it on his desk, dismissing the Elf. "Thank you, Dobby. You may go now."

Dobby bowed. "Yes, Mister Harry Potter Sir." Before he went, he snapped his fingers and a second cup and saucer appeared on the tray, then he was gone. Harry frowned, wondering why his little Elf had given him a second cup when he heard the door to his chamber open and close, followed by light, quick, almost skip-like steps coming down the winding stairs.

Harry sighed and poured honey and cream into his own cup, then poured the tea over it. With a wave of his hand, a small spoon began stirring it steadily on its own. He also poured just plain black tea into the second cup.

A second later, Barty alighted off the last step and strode across the room, conjuring a chair for himself. He sat down with an exhale and looked over, spying the plain tea. "Ah, you shouldn't have."

Harry waved his hand and the spoon ceased its stirring. He picked up his cup and Barty took his. "I didn't. Dobby did."

Barty sipped his tea. "Well, be sure to extend my thanks to the little fella." He took another long sip. "Ah, that's good. You know, it's a good thing you bought that Elf. He was wasted working for the Malfoys. Bloody gits." He cast a disdainful glance upward as if the family in question could somehow see it.

Harry nodded in agreement, taking a long sip from his own cup. "Can probably hear you, so no need." He sipped again. "So, what brings you to my home today, Barty?" He was half-hoping for a mission or something of that nature.

Barty looked offended. "What? Can a man not visit his best friend without an ulterior motive these days?"

Harry scoffed. "I'm your _only_ friend, Barty."

Barty hummed in agreement as he took another sip of tea. "True enough," he said, after swallowing. "All the more reason not to question my motives." Harry leveled a blank stare at the older man. "Alright, alright, if you must know, I'm avoiding going to my father's estate. He's summoned me on 'family business'. More likely he wants to give me some speech about how I should be more like him and get a job at the Ministry and be a 'respectable member of society, blah blah blah' and all that nonsense. I don't see why he should care about what I do now, he never cared about me at all when I was a child. A bit late to try and be a father now, if you ask me."

Harry nodded along. He'd heard this all before; practically every time Barty was summoned by his father. Not that that was too terribly often, given that Barty Sr. was far too obsessed with his work for the Ministry to really have time to bother with his one and only son. Harry knew that unless he said something about it to egg him on, Barty would eventually grow tired of his own grousing and go get the meeting over with.

And just as Harry predicted, Barty wound down after a few minutes and three cups of tea. "Might as well go and get this over with. The longer I put it off, the longer it will take." He put his empty cup back down on the tray, where it promptly vanished, courtesy of Dobby. "Wish me luck," he said, striding toward the stairs. "If I'm not back by dinner, come to my father's home and slaughter everyone."

With those final words, spoken in all seriousness, Barty bounded back up the stairs and out of sight. Harry nodded as the heard the door at the top of the stairs open and close. "That, I can do," he murmured, silently hoping that Barty would be missing come dinner time so he would have an excuse to go out and murder someone. It wasn't that he enjoyed killing, per se, but it was an excellent stress reliever, and he'd give anything to not have to think about going to Hogwarts for even a couple of hours.

His eyes slipped closed and he took a deep breath, clearing his mind, as Snape had taught him during his Occlumency lessons. Soon, he felt himself start to slip into a trance. His trance was broken almost immediately though, as he heard the door at the top of the stairs open once more. Had Barty forgotten something? He wondered.

But it was not Barty's footsteps he heard. Nor were they those of either of the Carrows. These steps were softer, more hesitant and halting, as if the person were constantly considering turning back.

Immediately on guard, he sprung to his feet and drew his wand, the lamps and torches dying as one, plunging the room into darkness. He quickly moved so his back was to the wall and held his breath.

A moment later, a silhouette appeared at the base of the stairs, stopping short upon seeing the room completely darkened. There was a nervous shuffling of feet as the figure silently contemplated whether to leave or go forth. Finally, they seemed to have gathered their courage, for they stepped forward off the step and into the room. "Hello?" The voice was clearly feminine, and young. "Harry?"

Harry sighed. It was Pansy Parkinson. What did she want? Only one way to find out, he figured. With a wave of his wand, all the lamps and torches flared back to life, momentarily blinding the poor girl. In this short moment, Harry had cleared the distance between them. Her eyes cleared and she jumped back a step, startled to find Harry so close to her so suddenly.

"What do you want?" Harry asked unceremoniously. No point in beating around the bush.

Pansy stuttered for a moment, her cheeks flaring pink as she struggled to find her voice. It was odd, he considered, to see her so flustered. Normally when he had observed her with the Malfoy boy she seemed to have considerable confidence and more than a little bite. He almost respected it. But, now that was all gone, and he wondered if perhaps it were merely a front to hide this side of herself from others. After all, it would not do for the daughter of a wealthy Pureblood and Death Eater to appear weak or vulnerable; two traits that others would not hesitate to take advantage of. He could respect that as well, but that smidgen of respect did little to improve his view of the young woman.

Finally, she found her voice. "I-I wanted to come see you. To t-talk to you," she said.

"What about?" Harry asked, still not lowering his gaze from her wide black eyes. She was fighting to hold it.

"I know you don't think much of me, or of Draco and the others," she said. "But, we're all going to have to work together when we get to Hogwarts and I for one want to live to see eighteen. And," her voice took on a lighter, almost flirty tone, "I wouldn't mind getting to know you better." she gave him what she must have hoped was a seductive smile.

One thing Harry noticed, looking into her eyes, was the distinct lack of any real fear. She was scared, of course, but not _truly_ scared. Not of him, and not of the mission to come. While he could chalk it up to her confidence that they would succeed, at least that _he_ would, as was evident by her coming down her to him, but he doubted it was so. No, it was naivete. She had no real concept of the dangers they would be facing come September. He would have to change that,

Harry looked her up and down, finally breaking the dead stare he had leveled at her. He felt more than heard her sigh in relief as his eyes left hers. "Have you ever killed a man, Ms. Parkinson?" She shook her head. "Have you ever stared into the eyes of someone who wants nothing more than to remove you from this world?" Again she shook her head. "Have you ever been in a situation where you don't know if you would make it out alive?" She shook her head once more. "No?" he smiled. "I HAVE!"

In a single swift motion he had dashed the tea tray from the desk, sending it crashing to the floor, where it shattered, and pushed Pansy back several steps until she was pressed flat against the wall, his body holding hers still.

Pansy squirmed against his hold. "H-Harry? What are you-?"

"Shh," Harry cut her off, one finger pressed to her trembling lips. "Look at my eyes, Pansy, look at them, and tell me what you see."

Pansy's black eyes rose and met his emerald green.

"What do you see?"

Pansy shook her head. "Nothing."

Harry tilted his head. "Nothing?"

"Yes," she nodded, "Nothing."

Harry hardened his gaze. "And now?"

Pansy gulped. "Death."

Harry nodded, "Good." He leaned in close, his face less than and inch from her own. "Memorize what you see. Now, imagine it being directed at you, by someone who means to end your life." He felt her squirm some more, tears forming on the rim of her eyelids. "You said you want to live?" Pansy nodded, a couple of tears falling. Harry smiled and leaned further, his mouth now near her ear. She shuddered as his hot breath touched her neck. "Would you like me to tell you how to do that?" She nodded. "What was that?" he asked.

"Yes," she spoke aloud.

Harry smiled against her dark hair. His lips brushed her ear as he spoke his next words. " _Stay out of my way_."

In an instant, he was no longer pressing her against the wall, and instead was looking down at her almost pityingly.

He jerked his head toward the stairs. "Go." Pansy glanced in the same direction, then back again, her feet remaining planted to the ground. "Go!" Still she hesitated. He had grown tired of this. "NOW!" he shouted. With all the speed of a frightened rabbit the girl ran, scrambling up the stairs, practically on all fours. He heard her trip, but that did not impede her retreat in the slightest.

Harry exhaled heavily and went back to his desk. He found the tea tray repaired and waiting for him, the kettle, cream and honey all refilled. He said a silent thanks to Dobby as he poured himself a fresh cup.

Hopefully, he had gotten his message across to the poor girl. No doubt Draco would insist upon doing things his way, and Harry already knew that whatever that way may be, it would be folly. Perhaps his little stunt here would discourage Pansy from going along with whatever scheme the Malfoy boy was sure to cook up. He didn't _care_ about the girl, but he bore her no ill will and did not wish to see her die needlessly. The less Pure Blood spilled in this war, the better. Though it would be done when necessary, he thought, thinking of the Longbottoms.

He looked over the surface of his desk, noting the various items sitting there: the Daily Prophet, his book on Goblin Wars, the tea tray, and a small leather-bound journal. Ignoring the rest of the items, he poured himself more tea and sat down, sipping the hot beverage. The warmth spread through him, calming him. After draining the cup, he poured another and set it aside, picking up the journal instead.

It was his personal journal. Inside he kept record of his missions and activities. He flipped it open to a page with a long list of names on it:

 _Albus Dumbledore_

 _Aberforth Dumbledore_

 _James Potter_

 _Lily Potter (née Evans)_

 _Sirius Black_

 _Remus Lupin_

 _Bartemius Crouch Sr._

 _Rufus Scrimgeour_

 _Alastor Moody_

 _Kingsley Shacklebolt_

 _Minerva McGonagall_

 _Frank Longbottom_

 _Alice Longbottom_

 _Dedalus Diggle /_

 _Emmaline Vance /_

 _Elphias Doge /_

 _Edgar Bones /_

 _Amelia Bones_

 _Dorcas Meadowes /_

 _Mundungus Fletcher_

 _Hestia Jones /_

 _Rubeus Hagrid_

 _Sturgis Podmore /_

 _Marlene Mckinnon /_

 _Gideon Prewett /_

 _Fabian Prewett /_

 _Arthur Weasley_

 _Molly Weasley (née Prewett)_

 _Bill Weasley_

 _Charlie Weasley_

 _Fred Weasley_

 _George Weasley_

 _Fleur Weasley (née Delacour)_

 _Ronald Weasley_

 _Percy Weasley_

 _Ginevra Weasley_

 _Nymphadora Tonks_

 _Hermione Granger_

The list was of his targets, the Order of the Phoenix, mostly. Most were still alive. Several were dead. He had killed many of them himself, and numerous others besides, who were not on the list. Picking up a quill, he dipped it in a nearby inkwell and began to make some minor adjustments to the list, to account for his recent work. It now read as thus:

 _Albus Dumbledore_

 _Aberforth Dumbledore_

 _James Potter_

 _Lily Potter (née Evans)_

 _Sirius Black_

 _Remus Lupin_

 _Bartemius Crouch Sr._

 _Rufus Scrimgeour_

 _Cornelius Fudge_

 _Alastor Moody_

 _Kingsley Shacklebolt_

 _Minerva McGonagall_

 _Frank Longbottom /_

 _Alice Longbottom /_

 _Dedalus Diggle /_

 _Emmaline Vance /_

 _Elphias Doge /_

 _Edgar Bones /_

 _Amelia Bones_

 _Dorcas Meadowes /_

 _Mundungus Fletcher /_

 _Hestia Jones /_

 _Rubeus Hagrid_

 _Sturgis Podmore /_

 _Marlene Mckinnon /_

 _Gideon Prewett /_

 _Fabian Prewett /_

 _Arthur Weasley_

 _Molly Weasley (née Prewett)_

 _Bill Weasley_

 _Charlie Weasley_

 _Fred Weasley_

 _George Weasley_

 _Fleur Weasley (née Delacour)_

 _Ronald Weasley_

 _Percy Weasley_

 _Ginevra Weasley_

 _Nymphadora Tonks_

 _Hermione Granger_

 _Neville Longbottom_

Satisfied, Harry closed the journal and set it aside. He had struck through three names on his list in a single day, and added a new one in the form of Neville Longbottom. Frank and Alice Longbottom had fallen to him and Barty and were now as good as dead in St. Mungos', and Mundungus Fletcher, a long-time member of the Order who was known for his cowardice, according to Severus Snape, who had been the one to confirm his identity after the Carrows had found no form of identification on his body, had been the fool to try and attack him while he was unawares. The attack had failed miserably and Fletcher was now among the dead. Though it was extremely out of character for one such as Fletcher to risk his neck trying to help someone in such a manner, or so Snape said.

Harry had to admit that such a move would be odd for someone who had garnered a reputation as a coward, and had initially been suspicious of it. But when nothing seemed to be out of sorts, he dismissed this. Perhaps in those moments, with no where to run and his fear growing with every passing second, he had decided to try and make a break for it, targeting Harry as the smallest and therefore weakest target. He had been gravely mistaken of course. And it had cost him his life.

Harry had to admit to himself that he was not at all happy with the fate of the Longbottoms. They were not dead. They wouldn't get better, more than likely, but he still didn't like it. He couldn't imagine being trapped inside one's own mind, unable to move or even speak. He should have killed them, but leaving them as they were had suited his mission better...

It was hours before Barty made it back, and unfortunately, at least for Harry, he made it back with time to spare. Though based on the way Barty was ranting and practically biting the heads off of any poor soul who came with shouting distance, Harry had some hope that he may get to do some killing in the near future after all.

"Can you believe it? The nerve of that man! The BLOODY NERVE!"

Harry and Barty were making their way down one of the various long corridors of Malfoy Manor, and Harry was thoroughly enjoying watching his friend lose all sense of decorum.

A young man with a bit of an acne problem, probably a newly recruited Death Eater if Harry had to guess, happened to be coming toward them down the hall. He was giving Barty a somewhat concerned look and was blatantly staring as the older man continued to rave on. Shunpike, Harry thought he might have been called.

Barty caught the look and sneered at the younger man. "What the hell are you looking at, you bloody twat?" He faked a lunge at the man, who took off running as if a hound of Hel were on his heels.

Harry shook his head. For all his ranting and cursing, Barty had yet to actually reveal what had gotten him so worked up. Harry figured it was time to get to the heart of the issue. "So, dear old dad was none too pleasant, I take it?"

Barty puffed out his cheeks and exhaled in exasperation. "You have no idea." He ran a hand through his hair, his shoulders sagging as he seemed to run out of steam. "He wants me to marry!" His tone was incredulous, as if this was the most absurd thing he had ever heard. And Harry had to admit that it was pretty out there. "Marriage. Could you bloody imagine? Me, married?"

Harry suppressed a smile. "Well, you have to admit, you are getting a bit over-due. Look at you, you're practically an old man already."

Barty scowled. "You petulant arse. Just how would you feel if your father arranged a marriage for you without even asking you!"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "He arranged a marriage contract for you?" He was actually quite shocked that Crouch Sr. would go so far.

"What? No. But that's not the point here," Barty snapped.

"Then what is the point?"

"The point is that my father is still trying to control my life! I'm a grown man, goddammit, I don't need daddy there to hold my hand and tell me what's best for me!" He was getting worked up again and his was getting steadily louder. "First he ignores me for over half my life, and now all of a sudden he wants to act like his being my father actually means something! He may bloody well be the head of our family but I will never EVER consider that man to be my father! I'd let a Dementor suck out my damned soul before I let him have that sort of power over me!"

Harry nodded understandingly.

They walked in silence for a moment while Barty got his temper back under control. They took a turn and stepped through a set of doors that lead outside onto a terrace. It was late in the afternoon and the sun was starting to sink toward the horizon. Harry conjured a chair and sat down. Looking out over the vast grounds of Malfoy's estate. Nearby a few pure-white peacocks were loitering. Harry scowled. He hated those damned birds; he never could grasp what sort of fascination Lucius had with the things.

"We could just kill him, you know," Harry suggested, leaning back in his seat.

Barty conjured himself a chair as well. "Believe me, nothing would give me more pleasure," he said, sitting down and crossing his legs. "Unfortunately, the Dark Lord won't let me do so just yet. He says he has plans for him, what with him being toted as the favorite for Minister during the next election."

Harry shrugged. "You really think he could win?"

"Well," Barty seemed to consider the idea. "Yeah, probably." The thought seemed almost painful. "I mean, he is quite popular with the older generations, what with his hardened stance against people like us and his record as Head of the Depart of Magical Law Enforcement, and even further now as the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation. He's got a strong foreign policy on top of a stellar background for leadership. He's practically tailor-made for the job. Much more so than Scrimgeour, don't you think?"

Harry nodded. "If only because he is in a position to be more easily Imperiused."

Barty spread his hands in a 'there you have it' manner. "Eh, there is that as well," he said with a chuckle. "That's probably what the Dark Lord has in mind...I'd still rather kill him though."

Harry and he laughed lightly, the tension easing as Barty regained his usual easy manner. They sat in silence for a few minutes, looking out over the grounds. Harry absently noted that there was someone out there, sitting by the fountain. One lonely figure. From the distance, he couldn't tell who it was, but it didn't really matter either way.

"It will be strange around here when you're gone," Barty broke the silence.

"Hm?"

"Just that usually when that lot leave," he nodded upwards. Harry followed his gaze up to the sky above the grounds, seeing three figures on brooms descending toward the fourth figure by the fountain. "We have run of the place. Not that we don't always, but it's a lot quieter when they're gone. Now it'll be like a tomb here, what with you going with them." He gave an exaggerated sigh. "How ever shall I bear the loneliness?"

"Oh, I'm sure you'll figure something out," Harry assured him, watching the other teens start making their way back toward the manor from across the grounds. "You could always get married," he ribbed.

Barty scowled and flicked an invisible something in his direction. "Bah. I'm never gonna hear the end of this am I?"

Harry shrugged. "Depends."

Barty furrowed his brow. "On what?"

"On whether or not I survive this next year," Harry clarified. "I can't take the piss out of you if I die, after all."

Barty looked thoughtful. "Hmm. You make a good point there." He mimed reaching for his wand in a faux stealthy manner. "It would only take one spell. No one would ever know."

Harry smirked and pointedly ignored his best friend in lieu of watching the group of teens climb the stone stairs to where the two men were sitting.

"Well, if it isn't the little ducks themselves," Barty smirked at them. He looked at Draco. "Except that one. Peacock Jr., that one is."

Harry _tsk_ ed shaking his head. "Now, now, Barty. What sort of example are you setting for them? A grown wizard like yourself sinking so low as to insult children. Surely you have more shame than that?"

Barty looked indignantly at him. "Who said I have shame? I'll have you know that is a gross barrage of calumny, and I will not stand for it." He fought to keep his face straight, but Harry could see the grin threatening to break out.

Draco, for once, didn't say anything as he, Crabbe and Goyle stalked passed them and entered the house. Pansy hesitated where she stood, shooting what she must have thought were covert glances in Harry's direction, which she had been doing through the entire exchange. He looked at her expectantly. Finally, after a long couple of seconds, she darted inside as well.

Harry sat looking at the spot where she had disappeared, not really for any other reason than that was the last place he had been looking when she disappeared through the door. A long, slow whistle drew his attention back to Barty. "What?"

Barty raised his eyebrows. "I saw that."

"Saw what?"

"Don't give me that tosh. You know bloody well what." When Harry continued to give him a blank look, Barty gave up. "You and Pansy, obviously."

"I don't follow," Harry said, confusion coloring his tone.

"Well, for one, she couldn't keep her eyes off of you the whole time she was standing there," he vaguely gestured toward where the group had been standing. "And you watched her the whole way inside? I'm not blind." He propped one elbow on the arm of his chair and cupped his chin, looking at Harry with a fake dreamy expression. "You sure I'm the only one with marriage on the mind?"

Harry scowled. "Piss off, it's nothing like that," Harry kvetched. "If you must know, she came and paid me a visit after you left."

Barty sat up straight. "Oh, do tell." He seemed more interested than Harry thought the situation warranted.

Harry shrugged. "Not much to tell, really. She came to basically beg for me to cooperate with Draco. Even offered some... _incentive_."

"And? What did you do? Take her up on that little offer?"

Harry shook his head. "I told her stay out of my way, lest she end up dead."

Barty gave a long-suffering sigh. "Well, aren't just a regular Casanova," he groused sarcastically. "You know, I'm starting to think you might be asexual, mate."

Harry shrugged for what felt like the hundredth time that day. "No. Just not interested in that sort of thing."

"That's what I said," Barty said with a shrug of his own. He stood up and stretched. "Well, I don't know about you, but I'm feeling rather famished." With that, he vanished his chair and headed back inside.

Harry sat a moment longer.

The time to leave was drawing closer and closer, and he still had no idea how he was going to go about getting close to Dumbledore, let alone strike the fatal blow. And more importantly, how he was to stay alive. He had more to do in this life than kill Dumbledore. So much more...

He pushed the thoughts away for now and stood, following after his only friend.

 **XXXX**

 **A/N: Well, there's that. I know not a lot happened in this chapter, but it wasn't filler, by any means. If anything I wanted to take a chance to flesh out Harry and Barty; Barty especially as he'll be a lot less present once Harry leaves for Hogwarts. I hope to keep this story mostly Harry-centric. I tend to get lost in the details and bogged down with conflicting agendas when I do various POVs, so I'm going to try for keeping it all from Harry's POV, like in the books. I think this also keeps the suspense higher as things are revealed to us at the same time as they are revealed to Harry, and his reactions are our reaction, as it were.**

 **Thanks to all who read and review, or favorited, or followed.**

 **REVIEW PLEASE!**


	4. Draco's Gambit

**IV. Draco's Gambit**

The morning before Harry was due to depart for Hogwarts dawned early, and Harry rose with the sun; not that he could see from down below the earth. His sleep had been anything but restful, as he had been plagued with nightmares of the day he had been abandoned by his family into the clutches of Voldemort. Though he had grown passed being scared by the images he saw, they still bothered him greatly. If truth be told, he had no idea if what he saw in those dreams were real memories, or a chimera created by his mind from the various stories he had been told of that night and what he had seen from Voldemort's memories.

Either way, they had kept him awake most of the night, and he found himself too consumed with the 'memories' to find sleep again.

So, with a troubled sigh, he settled down in the darkness and began to concentrate on slowing his breathing, and in turn, his heartbeat. Slowly, he drifted into a trance. His eyes opened, though his meditation was not broken. Before him, the dream played out, as clear and real as it had been in his sleep.

He saw the figures of his parents, known only to him by a picture, shown to him by Severus Snape and the Dark Lord's penseive memory. And he saw the hooded form of Voldemort. The three figures exchanged curses and hexes, they hid, and ducked and dodged. The fight, though intense, was short, as his parents fled, leaving him behind, at the mercy of a monster. He watched Voldemort climb the stairs and enter his room. He saw himself, still but an infant. He saw the Dark Lord lift him from his cradle, and carry him off into the night, leaving behind him a burning, smoldering ruin. And after the hooded figure was gone, several other figures arrived, including his parents, and Snape. There were others too: Remus Lupin, the werewolf, Sirius Black, the blood traitor, and others Harry knew only as faces in a photograph.

He closed his eyes again, then opened them back up. The image of his parents fleeing into the night replayed over and over again before him, and he felt the rage building up inside him. He embraced that rage, consumed it, took it into himself, and felt the fire flow through him, warming him, fueling him.

It was a short time later that he broke his trance, feeling better rested and more alive with an energy that sleep could never provide him.

He rose and made his way up to the ground floor. He exited out to the terrace, into the cool morning air. With a sigh, he stripped off his sleep-shirt and tossed it aside, where it vanished, courtesy of Dobby. With a sigh, he trotted down the stone stairs and onto the vast lawn with a fountain in the center, and trees lining the outer walls. He sped up from a steady walk to a brisk jog. The cool air felt good on his skin as he maintained his pace for several laps of the lawn.

He kept this up for half an hour, then turned and sprinted as hard as he could back to the manor from the far end of the lawn.

When he reached the stairs, he was breathing heavily and his limbs were dead weight. He trudged back inside, calling for Dobby to prepare a bath for him.

He climbed three flights of stairs to the fourth floor of the manor, where his personal bedroom was located and maintained by Dobby. He hardly used the room, or the massive, soft bed in it, preferring to sleep with but a single thin blanket on the floor in his dungeon.

The room had an adjoined bathroom, where a steaming bath like a small in-ground pool waited for him. He stripped off his pants and stepped down into the hot water, letting it envelope him until it was up to his chest, then sank down so that he was completely submerged. He stayed like this for a moment, feeling his body relax in the heat and enjoying the way all sound seemed to silence beneath the water.

When he could no longer hold his breath, he stood back to his full height and his head broke the surface once more, his wet hair falling over his face. He brushed it behind his ears and settled himself onto a stone bench that had been built into the side of pool and leaned back, letting himself fully relax. He was no idea what the baths may be like at Hogwarts and he wanted to enjoy this one as much as he could before leaving.

His bath finished, he climbed out of the still steaming pool and dried himself with a wave of his hand. He found a simple set of clothing waiting for him. Black pants, black shirt, black socks, black robe. He liked black. It was simple, uncomplicated and dangerous. That, and he thought it complemented his appearance quite nicely.

He donned his pants and socks and had plucked the shirt up to put it on as well, when he caught sight of himself in a mirror. He noted his pale hue, and the numerous scars that crisscrossed all over his torso. Mementos from his battles and his training.

One in particular stood out to him. A single long slash across his chest, above his heart.

It had come from the first man he had ever killed.

He was eleven at the time, and was sitting in on a meeting with Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Earlier that day, he had been training in dueling with Barty, and was quite tired already. But, he remembered the day with the utmost clarity. They had been discussing new recruits. Apparently, there was a small batch of men and women who were hoping to earn the Mark. So, Voldemort had asked them all to come in. One man in particular, a certain Sturgis Podmore, was not all he seemed to be though.

Harry had not really been paying much attention to what was going on around them, as he had been merely fighting to stay awake, but he had snapped to attention when the doors were opened and the group of hopefuls were led in. Harry noticed something was wrong right way as Snape, who was normally distant and cool at these meetings was suddenly up at attention, watching one man in particular quite closely. Harry followed his gaze to a straw-haired man, who's eyes kept darting around as if looking for a way out, which given his purpose for being there, he probably was.

Voldemort had stood and was addressing the hopefuls, but Harry, along with Snape, was watching this strange fellow.

It happened so fast that Harry almost didn't see it. The straw-haired man drew his wand and shoved the others out of his way, then pointed it at Voldemort, his lips moving to form the killing curse. But, Harry, through his training, beat him to it. He fired off a cutting curse, hitting the man in the arm. The man recoiled, and turned toward Harry as everyone backed away from him. He snarled angrily and fired a cutting curse back at him, with better aim, the curse striking Harry across the chest, sending him to the floor, blood spilling forth and pooling around him. Snape was at his side almost instantly, waving his wand over him and chanting under his breath. The wound closed slowly, his blood returning to his body. He help Harry to his feet and the boy picked up his wand from where it had fallen from his grasp.

Barty had managed to wrestle the interloper to the ground and now held him down with his wand jammed against his neck, his tongue flicking out every so often in an agitated snake-like manner. Voldemort was looking in his direction, checking to make sure his son was alright. Once he saw the boy standing again, seemingly fine, he turned his wrath upon the poor fool.

Barty released the man and moved away quickly as Voldemort screamed and unleashed a powerful torture curse upon the man. "YOU DARE ATTACK ME!?" he screamed over the man's own. "YOU DARE TRY TO KILL MY SON!" he screamed with even more venom than before.

The torture ended a moment later and Voldemort waved Harry over to his side.

He leaned down to Harry's height and pointed down at the man. "Kill him," he said, breathlessly. Harry's eyes went wide and he took a step back, but Voldemort reached out and pulled him close in a semblance of a hug, making Harry flinch and shiver. "You must kill him, son. For what he tried to do to us. For what he _did_ to you." He placed his hand over the slit in Harry's shirt where the curse had hit him, a fresh scar clearly visible beneath it. It was jagged, and rough looking. Harry looked down at the man, then up at Voldemort. He bit his lip to keep it from trembling as he nodded. "That's my boy."

Harry pointed the wand at the man, who lay looking up at Harry. "You look familiar," he wheezed. Harry's eyes grew wide.

Voldemort heard this as well, and said, "Kill him. Now."

Harry pointed at the man with his wand. His hand was shaking.

"James. You look just like him. But those eyes...those eyes...they're Lily's eyes."

Harry's hand shook even more. What was this man talking about? At this point, he had not even seen the memories of Voldemort.

"Do it," he heard Voldemort say behind him.

The man opened his mouth again to say something more, but Harry cut him off by uttering " _Avada Kedavra._ "

The jet of green light struck the man in his chest and he fell back, unmoving.

Distantly, he heard Voldemort give the order for the rest of the hopefuls to be killed as well. He was looking down at the dead body, his whole being wracked with guilt and shame. While it was not the first time he had killed, this was different. He had killed Walburga at her own request, as a mercy. This, this was murder. He had stolen away someone's life. But another thought then occurred to him. If he had not done so, someone else would have, and had he not stopped him, he would have killed his 'father', the man who had raised him, taken him in when he was abandoned. This man had raised arms against his family, had sought to kill those closest to him. Had attacked _him_ with intent to kill. The guilt and shame slowly faded away, to be replaced with pride. He had done what he had had to do. What was necessary.

Now, years later, Harry still wore that scar with pride. He had avenged the injury, and struck a blow against their enemies. It wasn't until a couple of years later, that he had learned the man's name. When he was shown a picture of the Order of the Phoenix by Severus Snape, who acted as a double agent to both sides. Where his loyalties truly lied, Harry could not say, but the man had taught him much in his time as his teacher. It was he who had helped Harry create the list in his journal, though it was shorter then. And he had helped him add to it over the years. He told him of new members of the Order, who they were, what they did, their known qualities. Who their friends and family were. Some of these had ended up on his list as well, by association.

It wasn't too long after that, that Voldemort had shown him the Pensieve memory of the night he had found him. Spurred by questions from young Harry about who this James and Lily the man had mentioned were. Reluctant though he was at first, Voldemort had eventually given in and showed the boy the truth. And to this day, Harry was most thankful for it. He had shown him what spineless cowards his mother and father had been. He had solidified the hate he now bore for them. Though it had also shown him that Voldemort had stolen his childhood from him that night as well.

Harry finished dressing and made his way down to the dining room. It was near empty, save for one Severus Snape.

He took his usual seat, which was directly across from where Snape was currently seated, and a plate of eggs and bacon appeared in front of him, along with a glass of water. He snatched a piece of toast off of a nearby plate and ripped it in half, stabbing a piece into the yolk of his eggs, then took a bite. Whilst he was chewing, he caught Snape's eye. The older man was studying him intently. Harry ignored it, swallowed his food and took a sip of water. He continued in like this until his plate was cleared, using his last bit of toast to mop up the remaining yolk.

He leaned back contently in his chair as the plate was cleared away by the Malfoys' house elves. Snape was still watching him. Harry smiled at him. "Care to fill me in?"

Snape's expression did not change. "On what?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. You've been looking at me with that look in your eye since I sat down. Care to tell me what that's all about?"

For a moment, Harry thought he wasn't going to answer, what with him sitting all stoic and statue-like, but finally he nodded, more to himself than to Harry. "How will you do it?" he asked.

Harry frowned. "Do what?" He had an idea of what the Potions Master was talking about, but he wanted to hear the man say it, just to be sure.

"Kill Dumbledore, obviously," Snape clarified.

Harry had thought as much. He leaned forward. "I don't know," he answered honestly.

Snape's frown deepened. "You don't know?" he asked slowly.

Harry shook his head. "Haven't a clue."

Snape watched him a moment, almost as if he was hoping that he was kidding. Finally he sighed. "Well, that certainly won't do."

Harry nodded. "Have any suggestions?"

Snape seemed to mull the issue over in his head, then spoke, "You could poison him."

Harry almost laughed. Leave it to the man with an affinity for potions to suggest using poison. "Not really my style, but I'll keep it in mind. Anything else?"

"Cursed objects?"

Harry shook his head. "Too risky."

Snape sighed exasperatedly. "Well, I suppose you could just walk up to him and curse him to death."

Harry smirked. "Sounds easy enough."

Snape sneered. "I suppose I should consider it a blessing that there is so little of your real father in you, but right now you sound about as stupid as he is."

Harry's smirk fell away and the mirth left his eyes. "I am nothing like that man!"

Snape continued to sneer. "Then stop acting like him. If there is one quality you have that James Potter lacks, it is intelligence. Now, quit your pointless jabbering and tell me what you plan to do! Dumbledore is not an opponent to be taken lightly."

"I know that," Harry countered. "Poison and cursed objects may work for someone like you, but for me it is out of the question. Besides, don't you think that a wizard as powerful as Dumbledore would see something like that coming? Would he not detect it before it could do any damage?"

Snape nodded. "Probably. Unless _I_ gave it to him."

Harry snorted. "No offense, Severus, but this is _my_ mission, not yours. And while I do appreciate the offer, this is something I must do myself."

He wasn't being entirely truthful with the Potions Master, but he didn't need to know that. He had already planned to get close to the Headmaster, and strike him down when his guard was lowered. But given that he was still unsure where Snape's true loyalties lied, he was hesitant to give away his true plan. What if he warned Dumbledore and Harry's plans failed. No, Harry decided, it was better to play this one close to the vest.

Snape frowned. "Very well." He stood up abruptly. "At least let me show you something. It may help you in a pinch." He drew his wand. "Do we have any prisoners here?" he asked.

Harry thought for moment. "I don't think so."

Snape sighed and put his wand away. "Very well, I'll just teach you the incantation then." He sat back down. "Now, repeat after me: _Sectumsempra_."

" _Sectumsempra,_ " Harry mimicked. "What is that?"

"A curse of my own design," Snape answered. "I created it in my youth, to use against you're father and his lackeys. Actually did once. Unfortunately, I did not have a clear shot, so it did not do as much damage as I would have hoped. Had I succeeded, you would not be here now." He gave Harry a pointed look. "I suppose in that regard, it is better that I failed," he reluctantly admitted, though he didn't seem convinced of it.

Harry smirked but said nothing as he stood and made to walk out of the room. He stopped just short of the doors. "Thank you, Severus. I hope I get a chance to use this curse." He grinned maliciously. "Just make sure you never give me reason to use it on you." With that, he left, knowing Snape understood what he was telling him; which was essentially the same as he had told Pansy previously: 'stay out of my way, and I won't have to kill you.'

 **XXXX**

It was late in the afternoon, the sun sinking toward the horizon. The Malfoys had left just moments before, and Barty was more than a little bored. Harry was too, he was just less obvious about it.

"Where do you think they're off to?" Barty asked.

Harry shrugged. "Does it matter?"

Barty scratched his stubble-covered jaw. "Not really, but I'm bored. Let's follow them."

Harry narrowed his eyes at him. He was sitting there, in the dining room, which was uncommonly empty, trying to read in peace, but Barty was making that terribly difficult to do. "Why?"

"Why not?" Barty countered without missing a beat. When Harry just looked back at his book, Barty stood up and made his way over to the fireplace, grabbing a handful of floo powder. "Well, you can stay if you want, but I'm going after them." He threw the powder in the fire and stepped inside with a call of "Leaky Cauldron!" In a flash of green flames, he was gone.

Harry sighed and closed his book, setting it aside. He stood and stretched his body, then walked over to the fireplace. He halfheartedly threw in some floo powder and said "Leaky Cauldron," before stepping into the green flames.

He had a sensation like spinning before he found himself standing in the main room of the dingy wizard pub. Barty was standing to the side of the fireplace, leaning against it with his arms crossed and a grin on his face as if he had known Harry was going to follow him. Which he had.

Harry scowled at him and walked off to the entrance of Diagon Alley, with Barty following with a skip in his step. Harry shook his head at his only friend's excitement for their little adventure.

They reached the entrance to Diagon Alley just in time to see the Malfoy's pass through. They waited until the barrier was about to close, then darted through, hanging back and hugging the wall so as to not be noticed by the blonde-haired family. Well, Draco and Lucius were blondes, Narcissa was black haired, though she had some blonde accents added in magically, probably to fit in better with her husband and son, Harry guessed, having never really thought about it before. He noticed that they were not alone either. Bellatrix LeStrange, Narcissa's sister, and Fenrir Greyback, their resident werewolf, were also with them, though Greyback wore a hood, as he was wanted by the Ministry on several counts including but not limited to: murder, assault, kidnapping, torture, rape and destruction of public and private property; not to mention infecting numerous people with Lycanthropy.

Harry and Barty exchanged a look, both wondering what was really going on. Harry had to admit, he was curious now.

They followed the group until they turned down Knockturn Alley.

Harry and Barty stood on either side of the entrance, peering down the dark alley. By this point, the sun had dropped down behind the buildings around them, and thus they were caste into shadow. They waited until the group made their next turn, then hurried along after them. Barty reached the corner first and poked his head around it.

"What do you see?" Harry asked in a hushed voice.

"Well," he craned his neck a little further around to the corner, "If mine eyes don't deceive me, I do believe that they just entered Borgin and Burke."

Harry walked around the corner. "What could they all be doing there? At this hour, no less?"

Barty joined him, looking down at the shop front. Suddenly, the curtains in the window closed, cutting off their view inside. "Nothing good, I'd wager." He looked around. "Let's find out, shall we!"

Harry followed his gaze and noticed a window that was still unobstructed. Nodding, they found a ladder leading up to the roof of the adjoining shop. They climbed up swiftly and ran across to the roof of Borgin and Burke, finding a row of skylight windows there, which Harry found an odd feature since the interior was always so dark. He shrugged, figuring they must be enchanted to not allow light through.

The two men crouched down by the windows and looked down inside. They had a surprisingly clear view of the entire interior. And there, still near the front of the shop, stood the group. Draco and Lucius were speaking seriously with Borgin, while Greyback stood with his back to the front doors. Bellatrix and Narcissa were off to the side speaking in what appeared to be a hushed manner. Finally, Narcissa broke off from her sister and said something to Lucius, who nodded. The two women then left the shop in a hurry.

Harry frowned, and moved to the edge of the building, peaking over to see the two women continue deeper into Knockturn Alley, angling toward the residential district. Harry's brow furrowed. Where could they be going? Sure, several Death Eaters lived in Knockturn Alley, but none of note. But that wasn't true, he realized. Severus Snape lift just on the edge of the Alley, where it touched Muggle London. Could they be going to see the Potions Master? For what? Deciding it didn't matter right now, he ran back to where Barty was still watching those inside the shop. "Did I miss anything?" he asked.

Barty nodded, and pointed directly below them. "Little Malfoy has taken a shine to that there cabinet."

Harry's eyes narrowed. Draco had one hand placed against the cabinet, almost in reverence, then slowly touched his forehead to it. There was a small placard next to the thing, but the writing was too small to see from where they were. Finally after several long moments, Draco left his literal object of affection and went back to his father's side. He spoke a few words, to which Lucius nodded. He withdrew a stack of gold and set it on the counter. Borgin, waved his hand at it, shaking his head, at which point Lucius reached across the counter and grabbed the jabbering man by the collar of his shirt and dragged him forward. He spoke to the man, jerking his head toward Greyback, who uncrossed his arms threateningly. Borgin's face grew pale and finally he nodded and was released. He took the gold and swept it under the counter. A few more words were exchanged, then the Malfoys and Greyback left the shop.

Harry and Barty watched them leave from the edge of the roof, Harry noting that they went back toward Diagon Alley, the opposite direction of where Bellatrix and Narcissa had gone.

Harry and Barty scaled back down the ladder. "Follow them to the end of the Alley, see if they go anywhere else," Harry said. "Wait for me there."

"Where are you going?" the older man asked.

"I'm going to see what was so special about that cabinet."

Without another word, Harry strode toward the front door of the shop. He heard Barty curse under his breath then start off after the Malfoys.

Harry knocked hard on the door of Borgin and Burke, after finding the handle locked. "We're closed!" he heard Borgin shout from inside. He knocked again, harder this time. He heard cursing and footsteps. The door was flung open to reveal a rather red-faced Borgin who immediately began to shout at him. "WHAT PART OF 'WE'RE CLOSED' DID YOU NOT UNDERSTAND!? NOW PISS OFF, YOU-" he stopped short when he realized who it was standing there.

Harry's face bore a dark expression. He didn't take well to disrespect. "By all means, Borgin, finish your sentence." He drew his wand. "Make my night."

Borgin stammered an apology. "L-Lord B-Black, my deepest apologies! I thought you were some common vagrant. Please come in, come in!"

Harry stepped inside, shoving the offending man out of the way when he didn't move quick enough.

"What can I help you with, my lord?" Borgin asked, practically groveling.

Harry did not bother to hide his disgust at the pathetic excuse of a man. "Lucius and his son were just in here, were they not?" His voice said that he already knew the answer, so lying was pointless and would only result in violence.

Borgin picked up on it and swallowed. "Um, yes, yes they were. But, pardon my asking, what business is that of yours?"

Harry, who had been looking around at the shop's wares, turned slowly back to Borgin, his eyes narrowed. "It is my business if I say it is my business. You'd do well to remember that, Borgin."

"S-sorry, sir," Borgin stammered, wringing his hands.

Harry ignored him. "Now," he walked over to the cabinet, looking it up and down. "What is so special about this cabinet?" He read the placard, which said 'VANISHING CABINET, 1 OF 2 (SET INCOMPLETE)'

"That's a Vanishing Cabinet. Part of a set of two. We don't have the second." Borgin looked proud of himself.

Harry sneered and gestured to the sign. "I can read, Borgin. Now, tell me why the Malfoys were so interested in it."

Borgin shrugged. "I don't know. They just said they wanted it and paid me for it. Not what it was worth, mind you, but well-"

He was cut off by Harry grabbing him by the throat. "Don't lie to me, Borgin. You don't want me as an enemy."

"H-honest, my lord. They didn't tell me nothing!"

Harry studied his face for a moment, before releasing him. "Fine." He walked back to the front door. "You tell no one I was here or what we spoke of, or you'll wish that they'd let Greyback tear you apart."

Harry paused outside in the alley, taking a breath of cool night air. "What are you up to?" he wondered aloud, thinking of Draco and the cabinet.

When no answer came magically from the air, not that he had actually been asking the question to anyone but himself, he sighed and went to meet back up with Barty.

He found his friend waiting at the end of Knockturn Alley, just as he had requested, leaning against the wall with a bored expression on his face. He caught sight of Harry and pushed off the wall. "It's about bloody time! Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting here?"

Harry shrugged, "About ten minutes? Fifteen tops."

Barty was flustered. "Well, yeah." He frowned. "It sounds so much less when you say it."

Harry shook his head with a small smile. "So, I take it the Malfoy's returned home?"

Barty nodded. "Yeah, went straight back to the Leaky Cauldron. Bella and Narcissa came through not a moment ago, too. I hid just round the corner. They were acting rather jumpy. Did you find anything?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. It's a Vanishing Cabinet that Draco was interested in. Apparently, Lucius bought it. Didn't say what for though. Borgin also didn't know where the second one of the set is."

"Well, that doesn't help us much at all, does it?" Barty ran a hand through his hair. "Blast it. At least it wasn't a total waste of a trip. We know little Draco is up to something."

"But what this is, is still unclear," Harry finished for him. "Yes."

Harry's attention was drawn away from the conversation by the sound of laughter. He peered out into the alley, seeing a group of redheads making their way from the Leaky Cauldron. He looked down the Alley and saw only one place seemed to still be open, the large joke shop, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Harry looked back at the group and nodded. Yes, those had to be the Weasleys, what with them all having that tell-tale red hair. He counted seven of them, two of which were not redheads at all. One had flowing blonde hair and the other a curling mane of brown.

He was so intent on watching the group, eyes straying to the lone brunette against his will, he almost didn't see the second one until a man called out to the group. "Oi! Weasleys!"

The group turned as one to see who had hailed them. "James! Sirius!" an older red-haired man cried joyously. Harry guess this must be Arthur Weasley. But his attention was on the new group. There was a man with long black hair and a beard, an almost haggard looking man with mouse-brown hair, a woman with fiery red hair, almost like the Weasleys, who had a young boy a few years younger than Harry at her side, and a man with unruly dark hair and glasses, who had his arm around the red-haired woman's waist.

Harry could put together who they were just on what he had already heard, but he couldn't quite believe it. "Is that..." his voice trailed off.

He felt Barty put a hand on his shoulder and squeeze. "Yes." He sighed. "That's the Potters."

 **XXXX**

 **A/N: Well, that's that. This chapter came a lot easier than I expected. I hope you enjoyed it.**

 **Now, a note on who will all be major players in this story. Of course Harry and Barty will be two of the biggest characters in this story, along with Hermione, who will come into play very soon. Beyond that, Voldemort, Snape, the Potters, Bill, Charlie, Tonks, Luna, and an Auror named Savage, who makes a brief appearance in The Half Blood Prince novel, which this story will draw upon elements of.**

 **Now, as always, REVIEW!**

 **Until next time,**

 **Atrocity.**

 **IMPORTANT NOTE!:**

 **I have a poll up on my profile where you can vote on my next story. This one is far from finished, but I'd like to have an idea of what to do next. The poll will be open until this story ends, at which point I will begin the next story. I may add more options as I think of ideas, but I'm not sure. Thanks.**


	5. Long Dead

**V. Long Dead**

Harry watched the two groups intently as they came together, congealing from two separate groups into a single, larger whole. His mother, Lily, quickly got lost in the sea of red hair, but his father and his father's friends, whom he identified as Sirius Black, exiled son of Walburga Black, and Remus Lupin, the werewolf. Who the boy was, he had no idea, but given the resemblance to James, he was forced to assume that this younger boy was his very own brother, born some time after Harry had been taken. He wondered why Snape had never mentioned this to him.

Seeing his birth family, Harry expected to feel an overwhelming rage, and he did indeed feel his hate and anger, but he also felt a longing and sadness that he was not sure the origin of. That is, until he saw his brother, and the anger took over. So, they had replaced him. Of course they had, it wasn't like they had wanted him to begin with, else they would never have left him behind.

Barty squeezed his shoulder. Harry knew that his best and only friend could see clear as the night sky how affected he was by this moment and he was grateful for the silent show of support.

This was the first time he had ever seen his family, outside of a Pensieve.

This was not how he had imagined this moment would be. He had thought of it many times in the darkness of his dungeon, of meeting his birth parents, and every time, he had imagined meeting them at wand-point, when he would finally punish them for leaving him to die as an infant. Never in his darkest dreams had he ever imagined that he would be so overwhelmed at the mere sight of them.

The group started walking on, making their way slowly down the Alley, chatting amongst themselves, before disappearing into the brightly lit shop at the end of the row.

Harry stepped out of the side alley and looked after them, his expression open for any and all to see. It was lucky there was no one but Barty around to see him this way. Harry had no fear of Barty judging him for this unusual display of emotion.

"Come, Harry, we should get back."

Harry waved him off. "You go. I...I think I'll stay a bit longer."

Barty walked up next to him. "I know what you're thinking, Harry, and it's not a good idea. If they see you, it could ruin everything." Concern was etched clearly onto his features.

Harry sighed. "I know." He shook his head, "I don't know why I'm acting like this. I should hate them. I _do_ hate them...but..." He trailed off, unsure how to voice what he was feeling.

He needn't have worried; Barty understood. "But they're still your family. You've never known them, and no matter how far down you've pushed those feelings, a part of you has always wanted to. You want answers. About who they are, and why they did what they did to you. And the longing to belong somewhere."

Harry nodded, still unable to speak. But, Barty had summed it all up fairly well.

"I know what all of that is like. My father can hardly be called caring or attentive. I know next to nothing about the man, even after all these years. And you've never really fit in amongst the rest of us. You're wondering if on that side of the fence, you'll find what you're looking for. You won't."

Barty sounded so certain of his words, that Harry was forced to nod in agreement, but he remained rooted to the spot.

Barty exhaled. "I can see that you need a moment, to gather yourself, and make up your own mind." He started walking back toward the Leaky Cauldron. "I'll see you back at home, it's a big day tomorrow," he called.

Harry heard the retreating footstep echo like a death knoll. It wasn't until he heard the brick wall that separated the wizard pub from the Alley slide closed behind Barty that he began to move.

He strode toward the brightly lit store ahead with slow steps. He walked as if in a trance, but curiosity drove him forward, his mind blank of all expectation of what might await him inside.

He reached the door and opened it just as a tall, thin redheaded man who couldn't be more than a couple of years older than himself was going to it. He seemed shocked at first to see someone else out so late, but his shock was replaced with a smile. "Oh, hello there. We were just about to close."

Harry frowned. "Oh. I'll just come back another time, then."

The man was having none of that though. "Nonsense! Come in, come in! Who would I be to turn down a prospective customer?" He swept Harry inside before he could protest. "Name's George, by the way. I own and operate this humble shop with my dear brother, Fred. Is this your first time visiting us?"

Harry nodded. "Yes. I'm not from around here," Harry lied.

"Oh, and whereabouts would you be from then?" George asked, seeming genuinely curious.

Harry, thinking on the fly said, "New Zealand."

"Oh, a Kiwi!" George laughed. "And what brings you to our wet and miserable island?"

Harry continued his lie. "Just transferred here. Or, to Hogwarts, specifically." Harry realized that he had not introduced himself. "I'm Harrold, by the way." He didn't know if Harry was his birth name or a diminutive of another, but he felt it best to play on the safe side and give a more common sounding name.

George frowned. "Harrold? Makes you sound like an old Scandinavian." He seemed to think for a minute. "I know, I'll call you 'Harry'. How's about that?"

Harry almost swallowed his tongue. "Th-that's fine, George."

George smiled. "Well, Harry, it's good to meet you. Ah, here's my brother now!"

Another redhead, who looked exactly the same as George was making his way over to them. "Hey, George, what have you here?"

George patted Harry on the back. "This here is Harry. He just transferred here all the way from New Zealand. Harry, this ugly git is my twin brother, Fred."

"Nice to meet you!" Fred said, extending his hand to Harry, who shook it numbly.

Then, something occurred to him, and before he could stop himself, he was speaking. "Wait, if he's an ugly git, aren't you as well, you being twins and all?"

The two redheads frowned and looked at each other. Harry was beginning to think he had gone too far when they both grinned and laughed. "Just so!" George said. "I never thought about it like that."

"Well, Harry, don't let us keep you. Feel free to browse to you're heart's content. If you have any questions or need any help, just give us a shout. We'll be about." With that, the twins walked off, leaving Harry feeling quite relieved that their attention was no longer on him.

The whole time, his mind and body were telling him to pull his wand and start throwing curses. These two, and all the others he had seen enter, were, after all, members of the Order, and his sworn enemies. But, this was neither the time nor place for such things. They weren't the reason he was here.

The shop was huge, spanning three floors and while the outside looked rather small, it was much more on the inside; at least the size of four shops put together, per floor. And the amount of wares was impressive. No two displays were the same, and each was more insane and complex than the next.

He was examining something called Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, which boasted the ability to plunge an area into a darkness so powerful that even Lumos Maxima could not penetrate it, when he heard a voice beside him. "This stuff is so cool!"

Harry looked down and found himself standing next to the boy who looked so much like himself, except that Harry's own hair was longer and a shade darker. And the boy wore glasses, like his father. Harry had had his eyes magically fixed when he was young by a healer that Voldemort had kidnapped; some woman named Pomfrey, whom he had released later after erasing her memory of the event. "Yes, it is," Harry agreed, fighting to keep his voice neutral. The boy couldn't be more than twelve or thirteen.

The boy looked up at him smiling. "I'm James, but everyone calls me Jimmy, or Junior, but I prefer Jimmy, Junior just sounds weird."

Harry nodded, forcing a smile. "Harrold, but you can call me Harry."

Jimmy shook his hand. "You know, I had a brother named Harry."

Harry fought to keep from showing any reaction to that, but one eyebrow rose up against his will. "Really? Is he here?"

The boy shook his head sadly, his shoulders drooping. "No. He died a long time ago, before I was born. Mum and Dad won't tell me how. They don't like talking about it."

Harry stayed silent, not sure how to respond without giving himself away. Or at least that what he had planned anyway. "Perhaps it's too painful for them," he found himself saying. He noted that there was a bit of a hopeful tone in his voice.

Jimmy shrugged. "Maybe. Mum just get's sad, but Dad, he always seems...ashamed and angry."

As well he should, Harry thought. But aloud, he said, "I'm sure you'll find out what happened to him soon enough."

Jimmy just nodded.

Harry felt almost sorry for the boy. "You attending Hogwarts?" he asked impulsively.

Jimmy brightened up almost instantly. "Yeah, I'm in third year!"

Harry nodded. Thirteen then. "What's it like?" He realized that he actually wanted to know, having never been there himself.

"It's great! The castle is huge, and the grounds-" he gestured with his hands, spreading them as wide as they would to demonstrate something of impressive size. "And the teachers are pretty nice, except Snape, he's rather mean to anyone who isn't a Slytherin. But McGonagall is alright; she can be strict but she's fair. And Uncle Remus," he pointed over to where Remus Lupin was chatting with a long-haired Weasley, "he teaches Defense Against the Dark Arts. I'm not all that good at it, but he makes it fun. I'm best at Charms, like my mum, which Professor Flitwick teaches. He's an odd little fellow, part-Goblin they say. Not sure if that's true, but he is rather small. They also say he was a Dueling Champion when he was younger."

Harry listened to the boy ramble on and on about the school, and caught himself smiling a bit. He found, that he couldn't hate the boy, even though he wanted to. It wasn't his fault he was born of such weak and cowardly parents. Speaking of those parents, he noticed Lily watching them with a frown on her face. Harry couldn't keep the dark look off of his face, so he turned away. He plucked several of the Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder capsules off the stand and conjured a bag to carry them in.

Jimmy saw this. "You have to leave?"

Harry looked back down at the boy. "Yes, I'm afraid I do. It was nice meeting you, Jimmy." He shook the boy's hand and walked away to find the one of the Weasley twins. "Dobby," he called softly. With a small pop, the little elf appeared. "Bring me some of my gold, if you would." Dobby bowed and disappeared. He was back a couple of seconds later with a leather coin-purse in his hands. "Thank you. That will be all." Dobby vanished again with another bow.

He found one of the twins, he wasn't sure which, near a display for 'Authentic Love Potions', talking to the brown-haired girl in a teasing manner. "Got your eye on someone have we? Perhaps a certain, thick-headed brother of mine?"

The girl shook her head. "No!" she said vehemently, pushing the small bottle back onto the display, though her cheeks had taken on a pink tint. "If you must know, I was merely wondering about their properties."

The twin grinned. "Aw, Hermione, you don't have to lie to me."

"I'm not-" she started to protest, then caught sight of Harry standing there, waiting and flushed even more. "Um, Fred, I think you have a customer."

Fred turned to where she was looking. "Ah, Harry! Found something to tickle your fancy?"

Harry held up his bag in answer to the question.

Fred's eyes lit up, "Well, let's get you sorted then. Hermione, quit staring at my customers, you're going to scare them off."

Harry hadn't noticed it, but the girl was indeed watching him closely, her eyes sharp and curious. When this was pointed out though, she blushed and apologized, stuffing the Love Potion back onto the display before walking off to where his mother was chatting with Jimmy, shooting him glances every few seconds.

It was this that reinforced Harry's determination to get out of there as fast as he could.

Fred tallied up his purchases and Harry paid him, really only buying the stuff so as not to appear rude. He had chosen the Darkness Powder though because he figured it may come in handy for his mission. The Dark was his element after all, so why not use it to his advantage?

He left the shop in a hurry, darting away from the light of the shop as quickly as possible. It was lucky that he did, because not a moment later, Lily came out the door, looking around the deserted Alley for him, or so Harry assumed. A moment later, James came out as well. He could hear them speaking from where he hid, not but a few feet away in the shadows. He was tempted to curse them then and there, but decided against it. The rest of the group was too close and he wasn't confident that he could take on so many at once should they be alerted to his presence. So, he settled for waiting it out until the coast was clear.

"What's up, Lily? You ran out like the place was on fire," James said, smiling.

"I just..." she was still looking around, her brow furrowed. "I thought I saw someone. He looked so familiar."

James noted the look on her face. "Familiar how?"

Lily sighed. "I don't know. Just like I should know him. Did you see him? He was inside."

James shrugged. "Who?"

"He had dark hair, long-ish, dressed rather well. He looked a bit like your father in the face. Couldn't be much older than Ron and Hermione."

James shook his head. "I didn't see him." He was now shooting wary glances about the darkened Alley.

"He was talking to Jimmy of a little bit, then he bought a few things from Fred; or was it George? Anyway, he walked out just a moment before I did, but he's gone."

James looked around as well. "Well, I don't see anyone. Have you asked Jimmy, or Fred and George about him?"

She shook her head. "No. It's...it's probably nothing."

The two went back inside and Harry waited a moment, before making his way back to the Leaky Cauldron. He flooed back to Malfoy Manor and ran back to his dungeon as quickly as he could. He threw his bag on the desk and waved his hand, igniting the torches and lamps.

He leaned against the desk, getting his heartbeat under control.

"That went well, then?"

He spun about to find Barty sitting in a chair in the corner, his arms crossed over his chest and an unreadable expression on his face.

Harry exhaled, and sat down on his desk.

Barty stood and walked over to him, standing in front of him with a concerned expression on his face. "You all right, mate?"

Harry nodded, exhaling audibly. "I think so."

Barty nodded too. "Learn anything?"

"Yeah. I...I have a brother," he said.

Barty pursed his lips. "And how's that going for ya?"

Harry ran a hand through his hair. "I want to hate him, so much."

Barty hummed. "But you can't," he guessed.

Harry shook his head. "I just can't bring myself to. I resent him, and the fact that he got the life I never had, but at the same time-"

"It's not his fault," Barty cut in. "Right?"

"Yeah," Harry confirmed. "Is that wrong?"

Barty shook his head. "Nah. It's not _wrong_ , but it is a bit...complicated." He summoned his chair to him and sat down. "You see, it's understandable that you would feel this way. After all, it isn't his fault. You can't blame the kid for being born. He had no hand in that. And of course you feel resentment, after all he is, for all intents and purposes, a replacement for _you_. But _that_ is your _parents'_ fault, not his. That'd be like me blaming my mother for my father being gone all the time. It's not her fault he cares more about his work than he does us; that blame lies squarely on _his_ shoulders. Of course, I can blame my mum for basically letting a House Elf raise me while she was off doing gods know what, but, well, that's a whole other story."

"You can't tell me you don't like having Winky around, though," Harry said, poking at Barty's harsh tone.

"Oh, not at all," Barty agreed. "I love the little she-devil. She's been more a parent to me than either of my real ones put together, but that's beside the point." He said the last bit with a 'quit changing the subject' expression on his face. "So, what about _your_ parents?"

"Not much to say, really. My little brother, Jimmy, says they refuse to talk about me, at all."

"You told him who you are?"

"No! No. Gods no. I merely introduced my self as 'Harrald', but I go by Harry. He commented on having a brother named Harry, who had died a long time ago, and that his parents wouldn't tell him how or why."

"Sounds to me like they're trying to pretend you don't exist."

"Maybe. Or they're just too yellow to admit to what they did. Either way, they're in for a rather rude awakening tomorrow."

Barty laughed. "Indeed. Everyone outside of this house is." He leaned back in his chair. "Oh, I wish I could be there to see the look on everyone's face when you make your entrance. It's going to be priceless."

Harry joined in the laughter as the feelings from earlier faded to the background.

When they finally stopped laughing, Barty spoke again. "So, 'Harrald', is it?" He smirked. "You sound like some old Scandinavian war chief or something. 'Harrald Potter', hm, nah, no, 'Harrald the Black'. You know, with you being Head of House Black and all that." He grinned. "It's very Viking sounding, no?"

Harry snorted. "I'm not Viking, Barty."

"Come on, don't say that! Of course you are. Probably. Most of us are. Either Viking or Celt. Or both." He shrugged. "I mean, come on. The Norse conquered this island centuries ago, and before that the Saxons did the same, and the Angles before them, and the Celts before them. And the Saxons and Angles were basically Vikings. Well, maybe not _exactly_ , but they're similar enough. I mean, they're Germanic tribes just like the Scandinavians. So, it's not too far a stretch to assume you've got some Viking in you somewhere. And you're mother's family is probably Welsh, based on the surname, so there's some Celt blood for ya."

Harry smiled at his friend. "And what, might I ask, is the point of all of this speculation on my heritage?"

Barty cocked his head. "Conversation."

"Conversation?" Harry asked doubtfully.

"Of course, conversation. What else do you think it is? Some elaborately clever attempt to get your wee mind off of your rather harrowing experience earlier so you don't over-think it and do something stupid?"

Harry smirked. "That's exactly what I think it is. Minus the 'elaborately clever' part."

Barty wore a falsely wounded expression. "That hurt, Harry. Really."

"Sure it did."

"It did!" Barty smiled, taking the venom out of his tone. "But you didn't omit the part about you having a wee little mind so I guess that still remains true."

Harry scowled and made a rather rude gesture with his hand, which only prompted Barty to roar with laughter.

The night carried on in much the same manner. Though throughout, Harry kept thinking back to something Jimmy had said. He couldn't deny the truth of it, even if the boy himself had not known it. The Harry Potter that the world thought they knew was dead. He had died a long time ago. He knew his path, and nothing, not even his family were going to change it.

 **XXXX**

 **Another chapter down. A bit shorter, but still full, I'd say. Let me know what you thought.**

 **As is usual for me, there are lots of references to Vikings, Celts and Paganism in general. I've always felt that the Wizarding World had a rather strong connection to the various Pagan cultures, what with Ancient Runes and such, and obvious references such as Merlin, Morgana, and all of the 'mythological' creatures. I'm not going to make any overt references to Gods and such in context to Harry or anything like that, and none of them will make an appearance in this story, as I want to keep it grounded solely in the world we know from the novels. But it was fun to poke around with the whole 'heritage' thing, as most Wizarding families are quite old, or even Ancient, so it isn't too far of a stretch in my book.**

 **Oh, and the poll is still up. so go vote.**

 **Now, a quick thank you to all who have reviewed, favorited and/or followed! You guys are the reason I do this!**

 **Anyway, REVIEW!**


	6. On the Rails

**VI. On the Rails**

The next morning, Harry woke early and went through his usual routine, then proceeded to the dining room for breakfast. He ate sparingly. A single egg, a piece of toast and two strips of bacon. Draco, on the other hand, seemed determined to eat enough to last him the entire day. Harry was watching with mild interest, as the boy was not normally the type to over-eat. Unprompted, Draco turned to him, swallowing a mouthful of bacon and egg and said, "If you knew the rubbish they try to pass off as food on that train, you'd be eating extra too."

Harry smiled in a disgusted manner. "I'll take my chances, thanks."

There was no point in this gross display of excessive ingestion. If Harry got hungry, he could simply call Dobby to bring him something more desirable than whatever it was Draco seemed so disgusted by.

He didn't mention this out loud, though. Let the ponce suffer through hunger for the duration of the day.

"Good morning, Harrald!"

Harry was snapped out of his musings on Draco's ignorance by the sound of Barty's voice from the doorway of the dining room. He strode in and dropped into his seat beside Harry, grinning. Harry scowled at him, which only made his grin widen.

"What?" Harry asked, a bit annoyed with Barty's chipper mood. It never boded well for Harry when Barty was excited by something. Just look at the previous night. He had gotten bored and decided to follow Lucius and Draco, and Harry had ended up damned near having an existential crisis in the form of his birth family making an unwelcome appearance. "And why are we still using that name?"

Instead of answering, Barty began spreading some jam on a piece of toast. "I woke this morning and something occurred to me."

"What?"

Barty ignored him again. "You see, I was thinking."

"And how'd that work out for you?" Harry jabbed sarcastically. He really wasn't in the mood for this right now.

Barty acted as if he hadn't heard that. "And, it occurred to me, that, well, you're dead."

Harry blinked, once, twice, three times. "Pardon?"

Barty finally looked at him. "You're dead," he said, leaning back and taking a bite of his toast.

Harry looked down at himself, patting his arms and chest as if to see if they were real. "Um, Barty, have you been into Lucius' Halflings' Leaf? You aren't making any sense."

Barty scoffed. "Do I look like the type to smoke a pipe? Let alone that Hobbit stuff?"

"Then stop talking nonsense and start making sense," Harry demanded.

Barty let out a long-suffering sigh. "Fine. OK, you are, for all intents and purposes in the Wizarding World, outside this house anyway, dead. Everyone thinks you're dead. Hel, even your birth family believes it. And I'm pretty sure the rest of the world does too."

"And?"

" _And_ ," Barty stressed word like he was dealing with a child, "That means when you show up at Hogwarts _alive_ and decidedly not dead, there will be questions. Where have you been? How did you survive? Why have you come back? Are you really who you say you are? Who raised you? Who trained you? You know, questions like that."

Harry frowned and crossed his arms. He hadn't thought of this at all. He hadn't considered the implications, or the _complications_ , of his return; nor the impact it may have on the Wizarding World at large. He needed to figure this out. Quickly. He was leaving for Hogwarts in two hours. That didn't leave him much time at all.

"Couldn't I say that I was elsewhere? I told George Weasley that I had just gotten here from New Zealand, couldn't I just go with that?"

Barty shrugged. "OK, so if you go with that, how did you get there? Who raised you? Why are you back now?"

Harry inhaled and held it a moment, thinking furiously. "Uh...Voldemort took me from my family's house, then when I was older, I escaped. I was found wandering Knockturn Alley by a visiting wizard, who took me in as his ward, and I returned with him to New Zealand. He named me Harrald, and I took his family name as well. I'm back now because he knew who I really was, but thought it best if he didn't tell me until I was old enough to properly decide what I wanted to do. So, now I'm back to, see where I came from."

Barty nodded. "Alright, sounds simple enough. But, what was this wizard's name? How did he know who you were? Did he know when he took you? Did he find out later? Where is this wizard now?"

Harry wracked his brain for a common enough sounding name that people wouldn't question it, but not so common that it sounded too vague. "Uh...Barty, er, no, Bartholomew...King. Bartholomew King. He knew I was Harry Potter only after he took me and a local paper reported that it had been ten years since I seemingly died. There was a picture of my parents in the paper and he noticed the resemblance. That and the fact that I told him that I escaped. And he's dead now. He was old, and became ill. He told me on his deathbed."

Barty inhaled through his teeth as he thought over all of this. "Alright. Eh..it's not bad. Could be better, but given that this is so short-notice, I suppose it could be worse. Let's just hope they believe it." He drummed his fingers on the table as he chewed the last of his toast. "What if they go looking for this wizard? Or at least check to see if he was real?"

Harry shrugged. "I could always just say that I have no memory of it."

Barty shook his head. "That wouldn't work. You know too much about the magic and everything in general. I guess you could just say that that was the name you knew him by your whole life. It may have been a false name. The guy was a bit of a hermit after all." He looked at Harry pointedly, so he'd realize he was adding on to his story.

Harry nodded, running through it all again in his head so he wouldn't forget.

Draco, who had been listening in on their conversation, stood up and pushed his chair in. "See you on the train, Potter," before leaving to finish packing his things.

Harry had all of his supplies already bought and packed and ready to go, thanks completely to Dobby, who had retrieved everything for him, using Draco's list. Which Draco did not know Harry had commandeered from him after he had purchased his own supplies.

"I don't envy you having to spend a whole school year with that ponce," Barty commented as Draco left the room. "Imagine having to share a dorm with him."

Harry sneered. "If I have any say about it, I won't be."

Barty arched a brow at this revelation. "Planning to avoid getting sorted into Slytherin, then?"

Harry nodded, pouring himself a cup of tea from a kettle sitting on the table, kept hot by a heating charm, and added a bit of milk and honey to it. He took a sip. "As much as I'm sure I could find plenty of allies there, I feel it would be too obvious of a choice, and may hamper my goals to get close to Dumbledore. I need the Light to trust me, to let me inside their circle, and I can't do that if I'm in Slytherin. You know the sort of reputation the House has these days, ever since the Dark Lord himself was there, and perhaps even before then."

Barty nodded. "I do at that, considering the fact I was a Slytherin myself, and my father before me. Though, I'll admit that I was damn close to being sorted into Ravenclaw."

Harry sniggered. "And here I always thought you were a Hufflepuff."

"Oi!" Barty protested. "I'll have you know I was top of my class at Hogwarts in my day. Twelve O.W.L.'s, I'll have you know! Twelve! I'd like to see you find someone who can top that. Hufflepuff indeed..."

Harry grinned at how easy it was to rile Barty up.

"...you know...I think that was the only time my father ever said he was proud of me..." Barty said distantly, a faraway look in his eyes. His jaw moved as he ground his teeth. It were almost as if he were no longer in the room at all, and instead back in the past, seeing this event playing over again before his very eyes.

Harry's smile fell away and he cleared his throat quietly. He hadn't meant to dredge up old memories.

Instead, he decided to take the conversation back a couple of subjects. "So, Slytherin, huh?"

Barty snapped out of his trance and blinked. "What?"

Harry swallowed some tea. "You said you were in Slytherin?"

"Oh, yes."

"What was that like? Since, you know, I probably won't end up there."

"Well, for starters: everything is green. And I do mean _everything_. Well, I may be exaggerating a bit. Maybe. Probably. No, I'm not. Everything was green. The floors, the furniture, the curtain, yes there were curtains underground even though there were no windows, don't ask me why, maybe they wanted to give the students false hope. I don't know. The fire was green too. The walls, the ceiling, all green. Even the wood of the beds and tables was a very dark, almost black, green. Everything was green. Well, except the uniforms, but even then I wouldn't have been surprised if they were just really really dark green. I hate that bloody color."

Harry smirked. "Really? All green?"

Barty scowled. "You have no idea. They take the whole thing to the extreme. Or maybe that's just the way I remember it. I'll tell you this though: if I never seen green again, it'll be too soon," he said seriously, leaning in to look directly at Harry. He suddenly had a very horrified expression on his face. "Oh gods, your eyes! They're green!" He threw himself back in his chair, covering his face. "Get them away!"

Harry scowled at grabbed the edge of Barty's chair and flipped it, with him still in it.

Barty tumbled to the floor in laughter while Harry muttered, "Arse" under his breath.

 **XXXX**

At eleven o'clock on in the hour, Harry apparated to Platform 9¾ along with the Malfoys.

He didn't wait around for them once there though, and made his way for the train straight away as the platform was already getting quite crowded. He was about to board the train, when a mass of red hair caught his eye. He turned sharply, looking at the group of Weasleys as they poured one-by-one through what appeared to be a portal in one of the columns.

They were followed a short moment later by the brunette girl he had seen talking to Fred, then right behind her were the Potters. His mother immediately resumed conversation with the younger witch and James had his hands on Jimmy's shoulders, steering him forward through the crowd like he was a cart. Speaking of carts, they had two trollies carrying trunks and cages following them, propelled by magic.

Harry's heart jumped, seeing them all again, but he quickly hardened it.

It was at the exact moment that he was turning away from them that Jimmy caught sight of him and waved excitedly. "Harry!" he shouted, still waving.

Harry cursed under his breath. What did he do now? He could just board the train and act like he hadn't heard him, but he felt that that was rude and might hurt the boy's feelings. But why did he care? It was best that he not allow the boy to get close to him, he was his enemy, by default, after all. On the other hand, he was supposed to be getting the Light to trust him. Perhaps he could use the boy to that end. He was his brother after all, and if he could present himself as caring about his family, it would help his cause.

It was with this determination that he turned back, smiling toward the younger Potter. "Hey, Jimmy! Right?"

Jimmy nodded. "Yep. That's me, James F. Potter II, or just Jimmy!" He whispered conspiratorially, "My middle name is from my grandfather, but I honestly can't stand the name, so I don't use it. _Ever_."

Harry chuckled.

"Oh, Dad," Jimmy said to the man beside him, who was studying Harry closely. "This is Harry. His real name is Harrald, but he prefers to go by Harry."

Harry extended his hand to his father. "Nice to meet you, sir."

James shook Harry's hand firmly, but did not take his eyes off of Harry's face. "I haven't seen you around here before." It was an observation, stated as fact.

Harry nodded. "I just transferred here after my guardian died."

James frowned, eyes narrowing. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Thank you."

"Transferred? From where? If you don't mind me asking. I would guess Durmstrang or Beauxbatons, but you're accent is too close to ours for that."

"New Zealand," Harry answered. "I was born here, but emigrated at a young age. Now, I'm back. My parents attended Hogwarts in their day, so I figured I should at least finish my education there. Now, if you'll excuse me, I want to go and get myself situated while there are still some empty compartments. I like my privacy."

With that, he nodded to James, patted Jimmy on the head, then turned and boarded the train. He could feel James' eyes on him the whole way. Undoubtedly, the family resemblance had not escaped his notice.

He went to the very back of the train, near the baggage car, and quickly secured a compartment. He entered, closed and locked the door, pulling the curtains over the window on the door and the one over the window to the outside.

He sat down heavily, leaning against the wall, propping his feet up on the opposite seat. His heart was pounding faster than a war drum. He could tell that James didn't fully believe him when he had told him his lie about who he was and where he was from. So, Harry had opted for a tactical retreat. It was for the best.

He closed his eyes, letting himself drift down into a calming trance. He breathed in and out slowly, and with every exhale, he pictured his stress and worry being expelled from his being with his breath.

A short time later, he was calm, and breathing steadily, his heart now back to its regular rhythm. He wasn't sure how long he sat like this, nor was he aware of when the train started moving. And the students trudging back and forth outside his compartment was mere background noise where he was concerned.

It wasn't until he heard a tapping on the door that he was drawn back to the present. His eyes snapped open and blinked, not sure if he had merely been meditating or if he had drifted into sleep. He was also unsure if he simply imagined the tapping.

After a couple of seconds, it came again, and he was now certain that someone was rapping on his door. He waited, hoping that if he stayed quiet, whoever it was would simply give up and move along to another compartment.

What he was not expecting was for the lock to click off without his assistance and for the door to slide open. Standing there in the doorway was Jimmy, wand in his hand and a self-satisfied expression on his face. He caught sight of Harry sitting there with a raised eyebrow and grinned. He twirled his wand. " _Alohomora_. Standard Book of Spells, chapter seven." He seemed so proud of himself. "Easy."

Harry didn't say anything.

"I wasn't sure if it would work, to be honest. These compartments can be a bit weird when it comes to that. Most of the time the locks don't actually even work. I guess they had a bit of problem with the older students getting up to things they shouldn't, if you know what I mean." He winked suggestively. Harry just blinked and stared blankly. "Snogging," he added, as if Harry might be a bit slow. "I'm talking about snogging."

He hauled his trunk inside and levitated it up onto the wrack above their heads. He looked at the empty space up there. "Where's your trunk?"

Harry finally spoke, though it wasn't to answer the question. "What are you doing?"

Jimmy looked confused as he sat down on the opposite side of the compartment, opening the curtain to allow the sunlight in. "What do you mean?"

Harry ground his teeth. "I mean, what are you doing in here?"

Jimmy shrugged. "Everywhere else is full."

Harry raised a brow disbelievingly. "Really?" His tone said that he highly doubted that this was true.

Jimmy, seeing that Harry wasn't buying it, gave up. "Fine. I just didn't want to sit with the others. Hermione was being Hermione and had her nose stuck in a book, Ron was being grouchy because Hermione was ignoring him, and Ginny was snogging her boyfriend."

Harry frowned. "Don't you have some friends your own age?"

Jimmy shook his head. "Not really. I mean, I have friends, but not really any that I'm close to. Except my Quidditch mates. But they're all older and have their own friends. I'm a bit of a loner."

Harry sighed. "Yeah, me too." It was mostly true. He had Barty, but that was about it as far as friends were concerned.

He hated it, but he could relate to this boy in that respect. He had planned to get close to the boy anyway, to further his own goals. It may as well start here.

"But I find you easy to talk to," Jimmy said, drawing Harry's attention back to him. "I don't know why, but I feel like we have a connection or something."

Harry forced a smile. "Yeah." He didn't know what else to say. He realized he had no real experience in making friends. He had grown up knowing Barty, but this was something altogether different. Grasping at straws, he asked, "So, you play Quidditch?"

Jimmy's face split in a grin. "Yeah! I'm the Seeker!"

"Oh?" Harry prompted.

"Yep. Dad was one too when he was at Hogwarts; started off as a chaser, but switched up in his sixth and seventh years. We were undefeated last year! Professor Snape was _so_ mad when we beat his House. He's the Head of Slytherin, in case you didn't know. I think he hates me. He definitely hates my Dad. No idea why though. To be honest, I like his class, but it would be better if he didn't deduct points from us for no reason."

Harry sat and listened while Jimmy rattled on and on about Hogwarts and his classes and regaled him with tales of his Quidditch triumphs. This went on for several hours, and it was nearing dusk by the time something happened that wasn't Jimmy telling a new story, and boy did he have a lot of stories to tell. And not just about himself. It seemed that besides being a general loner, he was also an avid people-watcher.

The door to the compartment slid open loudly, shattering the comfortable atmosphere that had been present in inside with the two Potter boys, one of who was the unknowing sibling. Harry had his wand in his hand faster than a blink but relaxed when he saw who it was.

There in the doorway stood the witch with the curling brown hair, which was currently tied back in a ponytail, with a few wayward strands left loose around her face. Her expression was stern and her eyes filled with worry. She caught sight of Jimmy and immediately a look of relief passed over her, but it was gone almost instantly, as the stern, righteous anger was back.

Jimmy must have noticed this swift change as well because he groaned.

" _There_ you are!" she said in a hardened but caring manner, like a mother admonishing a child. "I've been looking all over for you! Do you know how worried I've been?"

Jimmy kicked his feet guiltily. "Sorry, Hermione," he muttered, looking every bit the shamed child.

"I've been going up and down the train for hours trying to find you! I must have checked every compartment at least three times!" Harry was wondering how she hadn't found them sooner if this was the case. Hermione was looking down at Jimmy with her arms crossed over her chest. "A notice-me-not charm on the compartment door, Jimmy? Really?"

Harry raised a brow as Jimmy blushed, but not from shame. He was barely suppressing a grin. Harry hadn't noticed the boy put a charm on the door at all. But Jimmy had said he was good at charms, so he didn't doubt that he could.

"Stop _smiling_ ," Hermione said, sounding exasperated. "It isn't funny! You could have been hurt and I might never have found you." Jimmy did his best to look contrite, but his grin was fighting back valiantly. Finally, Hermione sighed, her shoulders slumping and she reached up to rub her eyes. "Fine, I'll say it: It was a nice bit of spellwork. Happy now?"

Jimmy nodded. He turned to Harry. "It's not everyday I can get one over on Hermione. She's the smartest witch at Hogwarts!"

Harry returned his smile indulgently.

Hermione, as if noticing Harry for the first time went a bit pink. He supposed that it was embarrassment from having been seen losing her temper, or from getting 'charmed' by a third year. Or maybe it had something to do with that whole love potion debacle back at the Weasley shop. Maybe all three.

But this too passed quickly as she leveled him with her stern glare as well. "And you! Keeping him locked up in here! What are you, some sort of deviant?"

Harry flared his nostrils in disgust and scoffed. "Keeping _him_ locked in here? I tried to lock him _out_ , but the boy _Alohomora'_ ed his way in, despite my protests." He gave Jimmy a mock glare, which caused the boy to stick his tongue out childishly.

Hermione swung her gaze back to Jimmy, who quickly pulled his tongue back inside the safety of his mouth. He shrugged innocently, or as innocently as he could manage.

She shook her head and turned back to Harry. "Regardless, you should have sent him back to us. I promised his mum I'd keep an eye on him."

Jimmy protested. "I don't need a babysitter, Hermione! I'm thirteen!" He added the last bit as if it explained everything.

"Yes," she agreed. "A thirteen year old who likes to get himself into trouble. Need I remind you that you spent four months in detention with Snape last year?"

Jimmy gaped. "That-That wasn't my fault! He knows I'm rubbish at potions. It's not my fault my hair-raising potion blew up all over him!"

"His hair stood straight up for a whole _week_ , Jimmy!"

"It was funny!"

Hermione frowned. Then chuckled as she remembered the event. "Yes, yes it was." She quickly wiped her smile away. "That's not the point. The point is that I promised I'd keep an eye on you and _try_ to keep you out of trouble. If that's possible." She muttered the last part doubtfully. "And you running off and disappearing for hours without telling anyone where you were going, or that you were even leaving, makes that difficult."

Jimmy sighed. "I'm sorry, Hermione, I'll try to be more mindful in the future." This line sounded almost rehearsed to Harry, and Hermione seemed to think so too, but she must have figured that no matter what she said, Jimmy was going to have an argument for it. So, she nodded and waved him out of the compartment, levitating his trunk down from the wrack as the boy glumly trudged out into the corridor. He took his trunk from her and went off on his way after giving Harry a wave and saying, "I'll see you at school, Harry."

Once he was gone, Hermione turned back to Harry, who was closing the curtains over the window again, blocking out the lowering sun.

"You shouldn't be so hard on him," Harry said. "He's a good kid."

Hermione's chest puffed and her nostrils flared like she was getting ready to let him have it verbally, but then she deflated and nodded stiffly. "Yes. He is," she bit out. "Thank you for keeping him out of trouble," she said slowly, then left before Harry could say anything.

Harry shook his head and closed the compartment door again, locked it, and drew the curtains back over it. He hadn't even reached the school yet, and he was already making 'friends'. He closed his eyes. This was going to be an interesting year.

 **XXXX**

 **A/N: Well, there's another chapter. Let me know what you all think. THANK YOU ALL FOR READING, REVIEWING, FOLLOWING AND FAVORITING THIS STORY! You are all awesome.**

 **Now:**

 **I would love to hear all of your thoughts. REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW! I don't mind suggestions or constructive criticism.**

 **Until next time.**

 **-Atrocity**


	7. The Return of Harry Potter

**VII. The Homecoming: The Return of Harry Potter**

It was dark when the Hogwarts Express finally began to slow. Harry, who had been napping, woke at the sudden shift in momentum as the brakes were applied. He opened his eyes blearily, forcing himself into alertness.

He stood as he felt the train come to a complete stop. As he didn't have any luggage with him, he left the train quickly, joining the throng of students pushing their way toward the exits. He inhaled deeply as he felt the cool night air on his face. He looked around, noting that everyone else had changed into Hogwarts robes. He looked down at himself, wearing black pants, a white button down and a plain black waistcoat and long blazer. It was his usual attire. Was he supposed to be wearing those ridiculous robes that looked far too loose and baggy to be at all practical? He couldn't imagine trying to run or fight in those things; it would be a nightmare.

He shrugged with a sigh. He would worry about the uniform when he actually had to attend a class. He internally groaned at the thought.

"Firs' years! Firs' years, over here!"

Harry followed the sound of the bellowing voice until his eyes fell upon what was probably the biggest man he had ever seen. This must be the famous Hagrid, Keeper of Keys, Grounds and Game, Professor for Care of Magical Creatures, Half-Giant, and member of the Order of the Phoenix. Hagrid was holding a large lantern high over his head as he called out, and Harry noticed several small kids running toward him.

Then, the sound of shouting reached his ears.

He turned to see someone he had hoped he would be able to avoid if at all possible. Draco Malfoy and his little gang, consisting of Pansy, Crabbe, Goyle and a dark-skinned boy that Harry knew to be Blaise Zabini from his frequent visits to Malfoy Manor during the summers had just climbed off the train and were looking around like they owned the place; knowing the fools, they probably thought they did. They seemed to focus in on a nearby group and set upon them with evident glee.

He was about to make himself scarce, until he caught sight of who Draco and his gaggle were accosting. It was Jimmy and Hermione, along with a red haired boy who could only be the Ron Weasley that Jimmy had mentioned. Harry wavered between helping and leaving, and was about to turn away when Crabbe shoved Jimmy to the ground, laughing as he did so. Goyle and Blaise joined in. Draco only smirked while Pansy looked a tad uncomfortable.

Harry growled under his breath and made his way over, moving easily through the ever-thinning crowd.

"We'll see how smug you all are at the end of the term," Draco was saying maliciously. The others laughed, while Hermione helped Jimmy back to his feet and Ron glared, his hand on his wand.

"And just what is that supposed to mean, Malfoy?" Ron countered, ears turning as red as his hair.

"Yes," Harry called out as he made his way over. "Just what _is_ that supposed to mean?" He looked at Draco as if seeing him for the first time. "Malfoy was it?"

Draco's eyes got wide and his pomp and bluster left without a trace. Crabbe and Goyle were backing away slowly. Blaise was in shock, obviously not having known that Harry was going to be here this year, and was understandably caught off guard.

The rest of the students were now gone, leaving them all alone on the platform.

Draco recovered enough to speak. "And who are you?" he demanded, playing along. Of course he was. If he was the one to blow Harry's cover, it would not bode well for him or his family when word got back to the Dark Lord; and it would, that was inevitable.

"Harrald," was all Harry said. He drew his wand. "Now, I suggest you explain yourself, or draw your wand and duel," Harry said, his voice deadly serious, "and you can talk after I beat you."

Draco swallowed heavily, eyes darting from Harry's face to the wand and then back. His face was very pale. But it was Pansy who stepped in. "Come on, Draco," she said, grabbing his arm and pulling him away. "They aren't worth it."

Crabbe and Goyle nodded vigorously and led the way to one of the two remaining carriages. Harry almost snorted. For once, those two thick-headed oafs were showing more intelligence than Draco.

Harry tucked his wand away up his sleeve and turned to Jimmy. "You alright?" he inquired.

Jimmy nodded. "Yeah. I've taken worse falls than that. How did you do that? You had Malfoy petrified!"

"Git was practically wetting himself," Ron chimed in, chuckling. He held out his hand to Harry. "Ron Weasley," he introduced himself.

Harry clasped his hand after a second of hesitation. "Harrald." He didn't like this boy already, but then again, he didn't like many people.

Ron opened his mouth to say something else, but Jimmy jumped back into the conversation. "So what was it? Some sort of glamour, to make Malfoy see something scary? Or a Dread charm? That's, like, not even taught at NEWT level!"

Harry shook his head at the young Potter. "No. Nothing like that. I guess this Malfoy wasn't as brave as he thought he was. Must not be a Gryffindor then. Not like yourself," he said, gesturing at the red and gold badge on Jimmy's robes. "Now, I think we should be getting to the school now, don't you?"

Jimmy was about to speak, but this time it was his turn to get spoken over. "Yes," Hermione agreed, giving Jimmy a stern look. "If we're lucky, we'll get there in time for the sorting."

She led the way toward the final remaining carriage.

As they drew near, Harry noticed that they were not alone on the platform after all. There was a petite blonde girl standing by the carriage waiting for them.

"Hello, Luna," Hermione said, smiling softly at the girl.

"Hello, Hermione," the girl, Luna, said dreamily, her large silver eyes scanning over them, lingering a bit longer on Harry than on the others.

They exchanged a few pleasantries, but Harry was distracted by the sight of the creatures pulling the carriage. It was some sort of dark, skeletal horse-like beast. Thinking quickly, he began combing his mind for the exact name of these things. He was sure he had seen a drawing of something like this in a book during his lessons at Malfoy Manor. Thestrals. Yes, that was it.

He reached out gingerly and patted its neck. It shook its head for a second, then turned its head so that one pale, milky eye was facing him.

"What's he doing?" Ron asked, trying to be discreet about it, but failing.

Hermione shrugged, watching with concern. Jimmy was leaning over the side of the carriage from within looking at Harry with unmasked wonder.

"You can see them too?"

Harry looked down beside him to find the small blonde, Luna, looking up at him with wide luminous eyes. Harry kept waiting for her to blink, but she never did. Finally, he cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Yes."

"They can only be seen by those who've seen death, and accepted the reality of it. It's inevitable." Luna said all of this in the same manner one might note that it was cloudy outside.

Harry looked from her face back to the Thestral. "Yes."

"You've seen someone die?" Jimmy asked, sounding almost too eager. "Who was it?"

Harry suppressed his smile at the thought of all he had brought to an end, and those he was yet to deliver that gift of eternal sleep to. It would not do to appear excited by the act of killing. Instead he morphed his face into a sad expression. "I'd rather not talk about it."

Jimmy heard the tone of his voice and was immediately contrite. "Oh. Sorry, Harry."

Harry waved him off with a gesture. He turned to go and board the carriage too, but found Luna still standing there looking up at him unblinkingly. "Er, can I help you?" he asked. He was unnerved, which was a feeling he was decidedly unused to and he decided then and there that he did not like it.

Luna held his gaze for a moment longer, then shook her head. "No." With that, she skipped off to the back of the carriage, climbing inside with the others.

Harry followed at a more leisurely pace and took a seat on the end, which happened to be directly beside Hermione, who looked a bit annoyed that he had decided to sit next to her.

The ride from the platform to the castle was blessedly short, and Harry was the first one out of the cart. Having been raised in a pureblood house, he was well versed in matters of etiquette, and thus it was almost by habit that he reached up his hands to aid Hermione in exiting as well. She looked as if she would rather just jump down and ignore him, but in the end she accept his help and descended gracefully. "Thank you," she muttered quickly and started walking toward the castle at once. Harry extended his aid to Luna as well, since it would be rather rude not to. She smiled brightly at him as she said thank you and skipped off after Hermione. Jimmy and Ron came next, hopping down effortlessly, Ron scowling at him as he passed, the previous politeness all but absent now.

Harry shrugged at him, but said nothing.

He hung back from the others, stopping to pet the Thestral again.

He waited until he saw Hagrid lead the first years through the front doors, delivering them to a rather severe looking witch with greying black hair and emerald green robes. If Harry hadn't already known from the man himself who this woman was, Harry would have wondered if this was the head of Slytherin House. She certainly had the look about her, but as he already knew Snape on a first-name basis, he knew better. This was Minerva McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor House, Professor of Transfiguration, and member of the Order of the Phoenix.

Yet another name on his list there for the killing and he could do nothing. This was the most frustrating thing to ever happen to him.

He ran up the front steps of the castle, behind the group, and watched as Hagrid entered a side passage, presumably to take his place inside the Great Hall without having to walk through the whole room. Harry quickly found a shadow against the wall to melt into.

Outside the doors of the Great Hall, not too far away, McGonagall was giving a small speech to the first years.

"Now, in a few moments you will walk through these doors and join your classmates. However, before you can do this, you must be sorted. This process is simple and relatively _painless_ ," she stressed the word, and Harry noticed more than a few relieved looks among the group of first years. Harry wondered what sort of horror tales they had been told to warrant a Professor having to explain that there would be nothing dangerous involved in the sorting. Of course, had any of them bothered to read a book about Hogwarts, they would have already known about the Sorting Hat.

"There are four Houses," McGonagall went on, "Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Gryffindor." She said 'Gryffindor' with far more pride than was necessary, or even warranted, in Harry's eyes.

The first years began chattering excitedly about what House they wanted to be in, and which ones they definitely did not.

A moment later, a ghost floated through the wall, a tall man in a doublet, tights and a ruff. He stopped in front of the group and smile. "Hello!" He turned to McGonagall. "They are ready for you now." With those few words, he floated back into the wall and disappeared.

McGonagall waved her hand and the doors opened as one, and she ushered for the children to follow her as she led them into the Great Hall.

Harry waited until they were inside before he too followed. He wasn't sure why he was hanging back like this, but he chalked it up to his not feeling comfortable with being in a group of first years. Or it was his fondness for the theatrical and dramatic, a voice that sounded disturbingly like Barty told him in his head.

He shook his head and leaned against the doorway of the Great Hall. No one noticed him, save one. Harry pointedly ignored the large luminous eyes of Luna gazing over at him with unveiled curiosity. Hermione, who was sitting next to the blonde, turned to say something but when she found her friend's attention otherwise occupied, she followed her gaze and frowned at Harry before whispering something to Luna.

The Sorting Hat, as it turned out was a ragged old leather, pointed wizard's hat with a line of stitching across the front in some semblance of a mouth.

Harry was loath to admit it, but he jumped a bit when the Hat suddenly opened its stitching and began to sing in a loud, harsh voice.

 _In times of old when I was new,_

 _And Hogwarts barely started,_

 _The Founders of our noble school_

 _Thought never to be parted._

 _United by a common goal_

 _They had the selfsame yearning_

 _To make the world's best magic school_

 _And pass along their learning._

 _"Together we will build and teach."_

 _The four friends decided._

 _And never did they dream that they_

 _Might some day be divided..._

The song went on to explain the qualities sought by each founder and then of their inevitable division. Telling of how all four of them turned on each other, until finally Slytherin departed and the remaining three were able to reconcile their differences. The hat also spoke of House unity and how, like the four pillars of a house, unless they work together, the whole infrastructure would come crumbling down.

After this, the sorting ceremony began.

Harry waited patiently until McGonagall neared the P's.

Pearson, Timothy became a Gryffindor. Peasegood, Ellie went to Ravenclaw, Pine, Christoph joined Gryffindor soon after.

McGonagall looked at the next name on the list and her eyes grew wide. She looked over her shoulder at Dumbledore with a bewildered expression, then back to the parchment. Her mouth worked opened and closed but no words came out.

The students were growing curious, some standing to get a better view of what was going on. Luna was still looking right at him.

Finally, McGonagall found her voice and spoke in a croaking whisper so quiet that Harry doubted that the first years in front of her even heard her. She seemed to realize this and cleared her throat. "Harry Potter!"

There was a moment of silence as everyone took in what she had said. Of course, they were wondering how this could be possible; Harry Potter had been dead for fifteen years after all. Then the murmuring began as McGonagall spoke again. "HARRY POTTER!" She was looking at the group of first years as if they might be hiding him amongst them.

Finally, Harry pushed off the wall and strode into the Hall.

Every eye was suddenly on him and pandemonium erupted as everyone was suddenly clamoring to get a better look at him.

Harry kept his eyes forward and his face neutral. The first years parted before him with awed and even frightened expressions on their faces. McGonagall was looking at him as if seeing a ghost, which, Harry supposed, in a way, she was.

Harry forced a smile onto his face as he reached the older witch. Minerva was in shock and there were tears in her eyes. Her hand came up to her mouth as he stepped passed her and picked up the Sorting Hat and sat down casually. He looked over to the Gryffindors and caught Jimmy looking at him with a mixture of wonder and betrayal. Harry frowned and winked at him, hoping he'd get the message that he would explain to the boy later. And who was that next to him? Was that Neville Longbottom? It was. He looked rather worse for wear. Harry smirked. Well, this just got even more interesting.

" _Well then,_ " came a voice inside Harry's head. " _This is most curious indeed._ "

Harry rolled his eyes up so that he was looking in the general direction of the Hat.

" _This is difficult, very difficult. So much to sort through. Courage, Cunning, Intellect, Loyalty, you seem to have it all. But there's more. Yes, so much more. Anger. Hate. And darkness, so much darkness. Life has not been kind to you, has it? The things you've seen, the things you've done. So much darkness._ "

Harry frowned. He hoped the Hat couldn't see what he had planned for this year at the school.

As if to answer him, the Hat said, " _Oh yes, I see you. And I see your purpose. And I see what will come of it. Fire. Blood. Death. So much death. Were it not for that I cannot tell anyone of what I see inside of students' heads, your plans would fail here, but as I cannot speak of it, I must, against my own wishes, ignore it. So, where do I put you? Slytherin, I think would be the place for you. No? You do not wish it to be so? You are very brave, there is no denying that. If you were not, you would not be here now. Gryffindor perhaps. No? Ah, a desire to not be like your father. I see. Well, then, I know where to put you after all. Here, I think you will find something you have long been lacking in life. So, I think it_ _shall_ _be-_ "

"RAVENCLAW!"

Harry sighed in relief as he took the Hat from his head. One of the tables was cheering loudly, or more so than the others. Except the Slytherins, Harry noted, who were looking betrayed. None more so than Pansy. Draco, if anything, looked relieved. A sentiment that Harry shared with the blonde ponce.

Harry made his way over to the Ravenclaw table, where he found two people who weren't cheering, though they did clap politely, one a little more happily than the other. Luna and Hermione were sitting side-by-side and he took a seat directly across from them. Where as Luna was smiling serenely, which Harry was starting to think was her default expression, Hermione was quiet and subdued, though her eyes said she would definitely be having words with him soon. He detected an undercurrent of shock there as well, but she hid it as quickly as it had come.

Harry was unfazed by this. He had expected there to be quite a bit of people asking questions of him.

The Hall quieted and Harry realized that Dumbledore had stood up and was now looking out over them all with his hands raised for silence. Harry studied the man. This was the first time he had seen him in person, having not really noticed him all that much when he had entered.

He was tall, thin, with long silver hair and a beard of the same color that was so long Harry didn't doubt that he could tuck into his belt if the fancy took him. Despite his age, he moved with an ease and grace of a far younger man. Harry had no illusions that age had made him any less agile or capable. Nor did he doubt the man's power.

"Welcome! Welcome. Welcome to our returning students, but more than that, welcome to all the new faces." He smiled down at them, pausing a moment to look in Harry's direction. "Now, before we get settled in to our delicious feast, I would first like to say a few words. Though fear not, as I shall keep it brief. First years, please note that the Forbidden Forest is, well, _forbidden_ to all students, save when accompanied by a Professor or other member of the staff." He looked around at a couple of people, Jimmy in particular, who only grinned sheepishly. "Also," He continued looking in Jimmy's direction, "First years are not allowed to bring their own broomsticks, nor are they allowed to fly outside of their lessons. A further list of banned items and practices can be found on the door to the office of our resident caretaker, Mr. Filch." Here he gestured to an older, rather worn looking man with long scraggly hair and a cat sitting at his feet. "I am told that it had grown quite extensive. Now, tuck in."

As he said this, the tables filled suddenly with foods of all sorts. Harry counted at least five different types of potatoes alone. Now, having been raised in a proper pureblood home, and taught to eat in moderation, Harry found the amount of food to be grossly excessive. That being said, he selected himself a juicy steak, cooked medium rare, and some roasted potatoes and greens. He ate slowly, as was his wont, and sipped from his glass of water between each bite.

He noticed Hermione watching him the entire time, even as she herself feasted on some roast duck and various garnishes. Of course, she was not alone in this. Luna, as well as several others at their table were all sneaking glances at him when they thought he wasn't looking. Harry even noticed one of the first years trying to mimic his eating habits; the way he held his utensils, the way he cut the meat, the way he placed down his utensils as he chewed, and then the way he would completely swallow and then take a sip of water before resuming the meal. He found this terribly amusing for some reason. What was the girl's name? Peasegood? Yes that sounded right. The Peasegoods were cousins to the Crouch family as well as the Blacks, Longbottoms and Weasleys.

When they had all seemingly finished their meals, the rich and savory foods were replaced with desserts of equal variation. Harry, not being one for sweets, looked at it all and could already feel his jaw hurting. But, so as not to look out of place, and to see if his little mimic would keep up their little game, he selected a slice of treacle tart, which, he was surprised to find, he rather enjoyed. His little mimic did the same, though to not as much enjoyment as he. He couldn't help but smile at the girl as she pouted but finished her ill-chosen dessert.

After dessert, Dumbledore dismissed them to their dorms, but before Harry could so much as stand, there was a small man, maybe just a little over a meter in height, with dark hair and a rather impressive mustache at his side. "Potter, I am Professor Flitwick, your Head of House."

Harry put on a smile. "Hello."

Flitwick nodded in return. '"Professor Dumbledore has requested your presence in his office immediately. There is much we must discuss. I'm sure you understand. The circumstances of your arrival are unusual to say the least, and we were frankly unprepared for another student, let alone one such as yourself."

Harry suppressed a feeling of dread that had suddenly wormed its way into his chest. "Of course, sir. Am I to assume that you will be accompanying me?"

Flitwick nodded again. "Indeed I am. As your Head of House, it would be improper to send you off alone."

Harry stood up, towering high over the little man. "Lead the way, Professor."

Harry followed the Professor to the second floor; not too far a walk, all things considered. And they stopped in front of a large statue of a winged gargoyle.

Flitwick looked up at the gargoyle and said, "Cockroach Clusters."

With a flap of its wings, the gargoyle moved aside to reveal a winding staircase behind it.

Flitwick motioned Harry to follow him as he started up the stairs.

"So, Professor, what subject do you teach?" Harry asked, even though he already knew from Jimmy talking about it on the train.

"Charms," the small man answered. "And, if you are who you say you are, who you seem to be, I expect you'll do well in my class. Your mother was quite skilled as I remember. And your younger brother, well, the boy is a charms prodigy."

Harry scowled behind the Professor's back at the mention of his mother, but Flitwick did not notice it, given that he was facing away from Harry at the time.

"What do you mean 'if I am who I say I am'?" he asked.

Flitwick waved a hand as he spoke. "Merely that I find it to be quite amazing that you even exist, seeing as Harry Potter has been legally dead for near fifteen years, and suddenly out of nowhere you appear claiming to be him. I, frankly, find this difficult to believe. Now, don't take that the wrong way, as I mean no disrespect. It is just so extraordinary..."

Harry nodded, though he was more than a little annoyed at having his identity doubted. "To be honest, sir, I found it a bit difficult to believe myself when my guardian told me."

Flitwick squeaked a bit. "Oh, you have a guardian?" he asked, coming to a stop.

Harry frowned. "Had. He died. That's why I'm here. He told me the truth on his deathbed. Before that, I didn't know who I was, merely that I had been found as a child and he had taken me in."

Flitwick looked a bit sad. "I am sorry to hear that," he said.

They made the rest of the climb in silence.

When they reached the top of the staircase, they found themselves faced with a solid, plain wooden door. It was quite unremarkable, if Harry had any opinion on it.

Flitwick knocked on it thrice, and they heard the Headmaster call out for them to enter. Harry idly wondered how he had gotten back to the office before them, as Harry and Flitwick had left straight from the feast, and Dumbledore had still be there at the end. Though Harry allowed that perhaps he had left before them while Harry was talking to Flitwick at the table. Not that it really mattered in the end.

Dumbledore was standing in front of a window with his hands clasped behind his back, gazing out into the night. Harry immediately felt all of his defenses go up, and he had to force his muscles to relax, lest he give himself away. His mental shields he left at full strength though. He was wanted to be open, not foolish.

Dumbledore looked over at them and smiled. "Thank you, Filius, that will be all, I think."

Harry looked down at Flitwick, who looked reluctant to leave. "If that is what you wish, Headmaster."

Dumbledore nodded, his eyes twinkling. "Oh, I think Harry and I can manage. You have classes first thing tomorrow, and will need your rest. After all, I think it would be a shame if you were unable to properly teach due to lack of sleep, and I fear Harry and I may be here for some time. There is much to discuss as you know."

"Yes, but-"

"I will fill you in on all that transpires here, I assure you, Filius. You are not the only one with an interest here."

Flitwick must have realized he was getting nowhere and sighed. "Yes, Headmaster. Goodnight, Harry."

"Goodnight, sir," Harry said amiably.

Dumbledore waited until Flitwick had left the office and had time to get down the staircase before he turned to Harry and spoke. "Forgive me if I seem a bit rude or controlling, Harry. It is difficult business running a school such as this. And it can sometimes be a task to keep everything flowing as it should. And Filius, he means well, but I'm afraid this goes well beyond his station, even as your Head of House."

Harry nodded. "I understand, sir."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Now, now, Harry. I knew you as a baby, and I see that child in the man standing before me now. There is no need to stand on ceremony here. You may call me Albus."

Harry frowned. "Erm, alright, sir – I mean, Albus."

Dumbledore smiled. "Good lad. Now," he moved behind his desk, gesturing to the chair on the opposite side of it, "Won't you have a seat?"

Harry sat down as Dumbledore did the same.

"I must say, Harry, that it came as some surprise when your name was called out tonight. The Sorting List is a magical tool, and it is so rarely wrong. It is much like the Sorting Hat itself, or the Goblet of Fire in this regard. Near impossible to fool." He glanced briefly at a shelf, where Harry noticed the Sorting Hat watching them silently. "I, like so many others, believed you long dead. As for myself, I am glad to see that reports of your demise have been greatly exaggerated." His eyes twinkled merrily as he said this. "Though it must be said that your return has come at a most turbulent time, I'm afraid. People are scared, Harry. Just recently, two very well-respected Aurors were brutally assaulted in broad daylight in Diagon Alley by Death Eaters. They were tortured into insanity, if one can call a trauma induced coma 'insanity'. But, I think, seeing that you are, in fact, not dead may have a positive effect on the community at large."

Harry swallowed, keeping any other reaction to Dumbledore's words hidden. "I had heard about the attack, Headmaster, er, Albus. But, if I may ask, how would my return have a positive effect?"

"Well, it is my belief that seeing you alive will help to dispel some of the fear, and help diminish the legend that surrounds Lord Voldemort." He paused here, as if expecting some reaction. Harry supposed it was because most jumped or winced at just the mention of the Dark Lord's name. Harry however showed no reaction whatsoever. "If it can be seen that a mere child survived him, then I think we can start turning the public opinion that he is unbeatable around. He is, after all, only human, despite what he and his followers would have us all believe."

Harry nodded. "I'll help in any way I can."

"That is good, Harry," Dumbledore smiled. "I had hoped you would say that. Now, I do believe that there are many questions that remain to be answered, if you would permit me to ask."

Harry waved his hand in a 'go ahead' manner.

"Thank you, Harry." He chuckled. "Forgive me, I don't know if saying your name and actually having a living face to put it to will ever lose its novelty, I'm afraid."

Harry only smiled. "I'm still only getting used to it myself, sir."

"What did I say, Harry? You may call me Albus."

"I know, sir," Harry said. "But it just doesn't feel right. Not yet. It would imply that we are equals."

Dumbledore seemed amused by this. "We are equal, Harry, are we not?"

Harry shook his head. "No, sir. I would be foolish to consider myself as such. You are perhaps the greatest wizard alive today."

"You flatter me, Harry," Dumbledore chortled. "I am an old man, and my best years are behind me."

Harry smirked. "Somehow, I doubt that, sir."

If it was possible, the twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes increased in intensity. Harry noted this as he felt a small, probing touch against his mental shields, but it retreated almost as fast as it had come, leaving Harry to wonder if it had been there at all.

"We seem to have gotten off topic," Dumbledore said. "Now, the most obvious question would be: how did you survive?"

Harry shrugged. "Honestly, sir, I don't remember. I was a baby after all. The earliest memory I have, I was wandering along a street and was found by a wizard, who took me in."

"Who was this wizard?" Dumbledore asked.

"His name was Bartholomew King, and he took me with him back to his home in New Zealand."

Dumbledore nodded. "And, did this Bartholomew know who you were when he took you?"

Harry shook his head. "Not at first. It wasn't until he saw an article about me still being missing and presumed dead that he put the pieces together. There was a photo of my parents in the article and he noticed the similarities. I only found out recently. He was dying, you see, and he told me the truth soon before he passed. So, the only family I had known was dead, and I was left with nothing but a name and a choice. Stay and try to scrape a living off the land, as he had, or return to Britain and try to find my parents. I chose the latter. And now, here I am."

"I take it then that you have no formal education in magic then?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry shook his head. "No, sir. I have some practical training from my adoptive father, and I have read extensively, but I have not attended any schools."

"You will have to take a placement test then, so that we can determine where you fall." Dumbledore pulled out a piece of parchment and began to write. "I will send a missive to the Ministry to have this all prepared. And to have your death certificate destroyed. I hold much sway within the Ministry, so this will not be difficult, though it may cause a bit of a stir. Not so much as we will see when word of your return reaches the Daily Prophet, at which point everyone will know about it. And you will have to arrange a meeting with Gringotts, as I'm sure there will at least be something for you there. But before that, I think you should meet your family. I know for sure they will want to meet you. Oh, poor Lily will be beside herself. I'm sure little James has already sent an owl to them telling them all about the Sorting, as I'm sure many others have done. By the morning, I fear half the island and perhaps even the continent will know that you live."

Harry ran a hand through his hair. "Blimey. I didn't realize how big a deal this was going to be."

"You underestimate your value, dear boy. There are some, though a minority, who have never doubted that you survived that night. They call you The-Boy-Who-Lived, and now, they will be proven correct, despite having been considered fools for so long." He folded up the parchment and held it up. Suddenly, there was a burst of flame and Harry had a short view of a magnificent bird within the fires, wings spread and its beak opened as it emitted a cry, then the bird and the parchment were gone. Dumbledore noticed Harry's wide eyes. "I do apologize. I forget how startling Fawkes can be to people who have never seen a Phoenix before."

Harry shook off his surprise. " _That_ was a Phoenix?"

"Yes. Fawkes is perhaps my oldest friend, save for..." he trailed off here, but quickly recovered and continued as if he had not paused. "I earned his companionship in my youth and he has been my loyal friend and ally ever since."

Harry was impressed. He knew Phoenixes were rare, _very_ rare, and for a wizard to have gained one as his companion, or familiar as the case may be, was nothing to make light of. Harry was reminded again of how old and truly powerful Dumbledore was and was even more assertive of his earlier comment that they were not equals. And the longer this went on, the more Harry realized the mountainous task set before him.

They spoke for a while longer, and it was past midnight when Harry was finally sent off to get some sleep. Dumbledore opted to guide him to the Ravenclaw Tower, or the Aviary as he jokingly called it, as Harry did not know the way there.

They walked in silence, or near so, as Dumbledore was humming a rather upbeat tune as they walked.

On the fifth floor, they came to a small spiral staircase, similar to the one outside the Headmaster's office. They climbed it and found a solid doorway, with no doorknob or even a keyhole. Just a single bronze knocker in the shape of a bird's head. Harry noted that it looked more like an eagle than a raven and asked Dumbledore why this was. Even the House Crest was an eagle.

"I don't know," He admitted. "I never really thought about it. It is most curious, is it not. Ravenclaw is the name, but the eagle is the sigil. Most curious." He said nothing more than that as they stepped up to the door.

" _There is a story, that a man and not a man saw and did not see a bird and not a bird perched on a branch and not a branch and hit him and did not hit him with a rock and not a rock. How can this be so?_ "

Harry looked questioningly at the knocker, which had just spoken to him in what sounded to either be riddle or complete nonsense. "Beg pardon?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "To enter Ravenclaw Tower, one must correctly answer a random riddle. It seems your first test as a member of this house will be quite an interesting one indeed." He had a shine of mirth in his eyes. "Would you like me to answer for you?"

Harry shook his head. "No. I think I can figure this out."

He went over the riddle again in his head, looking at each phrase like it was a puzzle unto itself, which, it turned out, it was. A man who was not a man? Saw and yet did not see. A bird that was not a bird. Sitting on a branch that was not a branch. And hit him but did not hit him. With a rock that was not a rock. How is this possible? After some hard thought and many second thoughts, Harry finally felt confident in his answer.

"A eunuch, who did not have good sight, saw a bat perched on a reed, and threw a pumice stone at him, which missed."

The door swung open with barely a sound.

Harry sighed. It had been difficult, but in the end, he had managed it.

Dumbledore was smiling at him. "Well done, Harry. That is an old riddle, very old. Plato, if I'm not mistaken." He turned to leave. "If things go to plan, there will a much greater _riddle_ that I may require your assistance with when the time comes," he said cryptically. "Goodnight." Then he was gone.

Harry stood there for a moment, wondering what that could possibly mean. Finally, he shrugged and went inside the Tower. He'd worry about that when the time came. For now, he desired to sleep.

 **XXXX**

 **Well, there it is. Another chapter down.**

 **As always, REVIEW and let me know your thoughts, or any questions you may have. Thank you.**

 **Saw Captain America: Civil War last night. It was awesome. 10/10, in my book. But that's neither here nor there. I have thought about writing a Bucky/Natasha story at some point, but again, that's neither here nor there. Unless you think I should add it to the poll. I don't think so though because I would have to restart the poll. Though i am also considering making The Son of the Dragon part of this story. Let me know what you think.**


	8. The Raven

**VIII. The Raven**

The next morning dawned early for Harry. He had not slept well at all, given the general lack of darkness and the relative openness of the Ravenclaw Tower. While he had shared a dorm with the boys of his age, he knew that he was still not technically one of them. He still had to take a placement exam to decide that. And his O.W.L.'s too, most likely.

It was with a silent groan that Harry pulled himself out of his bed and made his way to the Common Room. He was unsurprised to find it empty still, save for Hermione, who was sitting by the fireplace reading. She looked up when he entered and looked as if she were about to say something but Harry ignored her and exited the Tower without sparing her a second glance.

He made his way down to the front doors and pushed them open, breathing in the cool Highland air. He calmly stripped off his shirt and tossed it to the side of the stairs. He then took off at a jog, steering toward the lake.

The lake, he found, was huge. And after only one lap around the thing, he was ready to head back. So, as was his custom, he ran as fast and hard as he could back up the sloping lawn of the castle, fighting uphill with every stride. He reached the front stairs and bent over double, his breathing fast and heavy. Finally, after several minutes, he had calmed his racing heart and gotten his breath back. It was at this moment that he caught sight of his left arm, where the Dark Mark stood out boldly against his pale skin. He cursed, having forgotten about the thing. He quickly picked up his shirt from where he had left it and pulled it back on as he re-entered the castle, leaving the doors open without a care, magically lengthening the sleeves to cover the mark. He hoped that Hermione had not seen it as he was leaving the Tower earlier.

The trek back up to the fifth floor was relatively uneventful, though he did have to dodge a desk being thrown at him by Peeves, a particularly nasty poltergeist who seemed to be in a rather destructive mood this morning.

He answered another riddle to get back into the Tower ( _"When is a door not a door?"_ ) and made his way back toward the dorms, again not stopping when Hermione looked up at him, from her place by the fire.

He showered quickly and dressed for the day, still forgoing his Hogwarts robes in favor of his preferred button down and waistcoat combo.

When he reached the Common Room this time it was much more full. Luna was sitting alone in a corner, Hermione was still by the fire, engrossed in her book, a short-haired blonde boy with sleepy looking eyes, a brown haired boy wearing a hat and a dark haired boy with equally dark eyes were all sitting together whispering at shooting glances in Luna's direction with grins that spoke of mischief. There was also a small group of girls nearby doing the same.

Harry frowned and found a seat in the opposite corner to sit down in, where he could see the entire room without having to turn his head.

Harry kept an eye on the group of boys and the group of girls, wondering what they were up to, and through a bit of wandless magic to enhance his hearing, he picked out their names. Anthony, Terry and Michael, as well as Latisha, Lisa, Mandy, Isobel, Sue and Padma. Luna, for her part, seemed oblivious to the fact that more than half the current occupants of the Common Room were looking in her direction with less than friendly intents. Nor did she seem aware that instead of using her proper name, they called her Loony Lovegood instead. Or perhaps she was aware, and simply didn't care; or liked to pretend like she didn't care. If he had been a betting man, he would have laid his gold on the latter option.

Harry sat silently, as the gaggle of girls disappeared upstairs, giggling amongst themselves and Luna herself stood and was making her way toward the exit so that she could go down for breakfast. In order to get there though, she had to walk right past the boys.

She smiled dreamily as the walked but that smile quickly turned to wide-eyed surprise and horror as her feet were swept from under her and she crashed heavily, face-first onto the floor, her books scattering as they flew from her arms. The boys all laughed and Harry saw that the blonde one, Anthony, had been the one to trip her. He felt his ire rise at this, and his desire to kill came forward, but he pushed it down.

Harry wasn't one to play the knight in shining armor; no, he was more of a dark avenger in that regard, but Harry Potter, the son of Lily and James, well, Harry suspected that he may just have been that type had things gone differently with his life. So, with that in mind, he stood and made his way over. He knelt down in front of Luna, who was still laying on the floor. He picked up her books and stacked them on a nearby table while she looked up at him warily, as if waiting for him to mock her. Harry of course had no intention of doing this. "Can you stand?" he asked her.

She nodded mutely and pushed herself up. Harry rose with her, ready to help if she needed it. But she didn't, and Harry smiled at this. He had more of an interest in seeing people use their own strength rather than relying on others to help them, and while this was but a small example, Harry was certain that this girl was stronger than she looked, or perhaps even more than she herself believed.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked.

Luna nodded. "Oh, yes. I've taken worse falls." She smiled up at him, though it didn't meet her large silver eyes.

"Why do you let them treat you like this?" He shot a dark look at the boys.

Luna shrugged in a nonchalant manner. "It's all in good fun."

"I doubt that," Harry said quietly as he picked up her books and handed them back to her.

She seemed to not hear him as she took her books and said her thanks. Then she was gone, heading out on her way as if nothing had happened.

Harry was about to turn and give those bastards what was coming to them when he caught sight of Hermione watching him closely. Instead, he glared darkly at them, and went back to his chair in the corner.

The boys soon left with the group of girls who had just come back down from the dorms carrying a couple pairs of shoes and some socks in their hands.

Harry heard Hermione sigh sadly at the sight and shake her head, closing her book slowly.

"Is it always like that?" Harry asked aloud, addressing the chestnut-haired girl for the first time that day.

Hermione started and turned toward him, as if she had forgotten he was there.

They were now alone in the common room.

"No," she answered immediately, too quickly, then exhaled. "It _does_ happen more often than I would like to admit." She walked in his direction before sitting on the back of a couch. "Even as a Prefect I could not deter them, which is why I gave up my badge, and turned down the position of Head Girl this year. What good are positions such as that if I can't use them to do some good?"

Harry was surprised that she had said so much, though he suspected this last question was rhetorical.

Hermione seemed to be surprised as well as she bit her lip as if to stave off any further speech from herself until she had had time to think about it first. She seemed to be turning something over in her head even now. "Are you really Harry Potter?" she asked at last.

Harry nodded, having expected this line of questioning at some point. "The Sorting Hat is near impossible to fool. And I know I do not have that sort of power." Harry though, was only half truthful. He figured he could pull something like that off if he tried, but he wasn't going to tell her that.

Hermione nodded, conceding the point. "True. Did you know before you got here?"

Harry nodded. "Yes."

"Then why didn't you say something at the Platform when your family was there? Or on the train? Or even before that at Fred and George's shop?"

Harry shrugged. "I wasn't ready for that."

Hermione seemed a bit amused by his seeming admission. "It must be quite daunting a task, coming back from the dead."

Harry smirked with some mirth. "You have no idea."

Hermione looked down at her timepiece and frowned. "Well, I should get going if I want some breakfast before classes start." She stood up and hurried to the exit, but pulled up short. "And thank you, Harry."

Harry narrowed his eyes and frowned with confusion. "For what?" As far as he knew, he had done nothing to warrant any gratitude from her.

"For helping Luna." She smiled and disappeared out the door.

Harry sat there in the empty common room for a while, simply enjoying the silence and turning that over in his mind. But that silence was broken by a tapping on a nearby window. Harry stood and walked over finding an owl there on the ledge with a letter clasped in its beak.

Harry opened the window and took the letter from the owl, which flew off almost immediately. He opened it slowly after seeing his name written on it in simple but neat writing.

 _Harry,_

 _Please come to my office after breakfast._ _It is most important that you do so._

 _Albus_

Harry frowned, turning the parchment over, looking for the rest of the letter, which seemed to be missing. Finding nothing, he shrugged and tossed the letter into the fireplace where it was hungrily consumed by the flames.

Harry decided to skip breakfast and headed directly to the second floor corridor and stood in front of the great gargoyle, speaking the password he had heard Flitwick use the night before.

He climbed the stairs and knocked on the door. No answer came. He knocked again, louder. Still nothing. Harry shrugged, wondering if the Professor was out of hearing range, or if he had simply beat him here.

Harry pushed open the door and walked inside, finding the office empty. He left the door open, in case he needed to leave quickly. It was always wise to have an escape route no matter the situation.

Feeling that this was as good a time as any to gather a bit of intelligence, Harry began looking around the room. He started on the shelf off to the side which was full of random items, including the Sorting Hat, which was currently sleeping. Then, he moved behind the desk, running his hand over the spines of the many books he found there. Noting such titles as _For the Greater Good: Truth and Legend of Gellert Grindelwald, by A.P.W.B. Dumbledore_ , _The Nurmengard Account, by Ulrich Hammerstern_ , a copy of _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ , as well as several tomes of various thickness and size on fields of magic that were just as varied. There was one in particular that caught his eye, a worn black leather-bound book entitled _Secrets of the Darkest Art_.

Harry pulled the book down and ran a hand over the cover, feeling the soft leather under his fingers. He had just started to open it and read the first page, when he heard a voice behind him.

"Curiosity is not a sin, Harry, but I daresay it can still take one down many a dark path."

Harry spun quickly at the first words, slamming the book shut as he did.

Dumbledore was standing there with a stern but gentle expression.

"I'm sorry, sir. You asked me to come up here and I didn't see you so I thought I'd have a look around while I waited," Harry explained.

Dumbledore nodded as he walked over to Harry's side. He held his hand out for the book and Harry handed it over without a fuss.

"It is a dangerous thing, knowledge. In the best of cases, it is a tool for great and extraordinary things. At worst, a crushing blow that can leave us feeling as though the world were crashing down around us." He looked down at the cover of the book, at the faded gold lettering there. "This particular tome is one that I wish had never been written. It is foul magic, of the darkest nature. Even Gellert, ah, Grindelwald, never dared go so far. He was dark, don't get me wrong, but he knew when there was a line one simply did not cross. He was, perhaps, the greatest Dark Lord to ever live, greater even than Voldemort, despite what he and his followers, and those who report such things would have us all believe. For all his terror, Voldemort has kept mostly to the British Isles, but Grindelwald, his power stretched across all of Europe. But, Voldemort is not bound by a code as Grindelwald was. He has no sense of right and wrong, of good or evil, nor a sense of honour."

Dumbledore placed the book back on the shelf.

"If this book is so bad, then why not destroy it?" Harry asked, genuinely curious.

Dumbledore smiled sadly. "As much relief as that would bring me, I simply cannot bring myself to destroy a source of knowledge, no matter how dark that knowledge may be."

Harry frowned at this logic, or lack thereof, but said nothing.

"Let us sit, and speak of less grim subjects, yes?" Dumbledore said, gesturing for Harry to take a seat.

Harry moved back around the desk and sat.

"Now, why I asked you here is two-pronged. First, a representative from the Ministry, as well as one from the Hogwarts Board of Governors will be arriving soon so that you may take your placement exams. The process is simple enough. You merely have to take and pass the yearly exams for each subject. You do this until you reach a level where you struggle, and at that level is where you will pick up your education."

Harry nodded. "That makes sense."

"And if you should make it to O.W.L. levels, you will be required to take them as well before moving on."

"And what was the second matter?" Harry inquired.

"The second is this," he pulled a piece of folded parchment from inside his robes. "It arrived this morning with the owl post. It is from James and Lily Potter. They are coming here, this evening. They wish to meet you." He passed Harry the letter and let him read it before speaking again. "I know that this is rather sudden, but as you can see, they are most insistent."

Harry sighed, placing the letter on the desk between them. "Yes, sir," he said resignedly. "If I could, sir, I would like to meet them here, rather than out where everyone can see."

Dumbledore gave him an understanding look. "Yes, of course, Harry."

There was a knock on the door, which drew both of their attention. Dumbledore seemed to know who it was though, and called out, "Enter!"

The door opened and two figures stepped inside. One was an unfamiliar wizard with grey hair and the other was none other than Lucius Malfoy. "Morning, Dumbledore," Lucius said, entering the room, his serpent-headed cane in his hand. Harry knew that this was where Lucius kept his wand, so that it was within easy reach at all times.

"Ah, good morning Lucius, Tracer," he nodded to the second man, who returned the greeting. "Punctual as always."

Lucius looked down at the other man with a bit of contempt, but then again that might have just been his default expression, Harry thought.

"And _this_ must be Harry Potter," Lucius said, looking Harry up and down as if this were his first time seeing him. "Lucius Malfoy, Chairman of the Hogwarts Board of Governors. It is an honour."

Harry shook his hand firmly, and a knowing look passed between them. "As it is to meet you, Mr. Malfoy," Harry returned.

"And this is Herbert Tracer," Dumbledore said, indicating the other man. "He is a representative of the Department of Magical Education, at the Ministry. He will be overseeing your exams."

Harry shook this man's hand as well.

"Now, I think we should get to it. The sooner we get this all taken care of, the sooner we get back on our proper schedules," Lucius said.

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, yes, I quite agree. I have had a classroom prepared for you. Turn right as you leave the office and it is the second door on the left."

Harry followed Lucius and Tracer out of the office and into the indicated classroom. Lucius and Tracer quickly set about warding the room for utmost privacy.

A two desks were set up in the room. One for Harry and one for Tracer and Lucius. There was also a potions station set up as well. Harry sat at his desk and was brought ink and a quill, and soon he was presented with his first test. There was a practical side and theoretical side to most of the exams, and Harry was given the theory first, and the practical afterward.

He passed the first year with ease, and the second year was no different. The third year had more subjects available to him and so took a bit longer, but he passed through with no difficulty. Fourth year, followed and he again moved ahead without issue. Tracer was impressed with Harry's progress and commented on this. "For someone who has had no formal education, you seem to be quite knowledgeable."

Harry passed the fifth year equivalency exam without too much hassle, and was presented with his O.W.L. exams. Of which he passed all twelve of with seven O's and five E's; a real testament to Barty's thorough teaching of all subjects, save potions, which was all Snape.

Sixth year was a bit harder, but Harry managed to pass them, much to his relief.

"Well, that's you all caught up. You are now ready to join your yearmates in class," Tracer said. "Unless, of course you wish to attempt the NEWT level exams?"

Harry shrugged. "If I do, will I have to leave Hogwarts?"

Tracer and Malfoy shared a look, and then Tracer said, "Not at all. If you pass, you can stay if you wish, or move on to find work."

Lucius added, "If you do pass, you can stay on as an assistant to a professor, if they accept your application to such a position. You would not have the same authority as a professor, mind you, but you will be given some privileges, such as not having to obey the curfew, as well as being able to give or dock House points, though you will not have the authority to deal out punishments in any other capacity."

Harry thought about it. If he did this, he could have more free time to work on his true goal instead of being distracted by his classes. Finally, he nodded and said he would give it a shot.

Now, NEWT stood for 'Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Test', and Harry quickly found that this was more than true. The written exams were long and full of strange phrasings that were meant to confuse, and the Practical side of the tests were difficult to perform. For his potions NEWT, Harry was asked to brew the Wolfsbane Potion, which was known to be rather difficult to brew and in high demand. He succeeded of course, but not in all areas. He achieved an Acceptable in Herbology, Divination, Astronomy, Muggle Studies and Care For Magical Creatures – which was given only in theory format, given the short notice – but received Exceeds Expectation in History of Magic, Transfiguration, Arithmancy, and Potions, and Outstanding in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Ancient Runes and Charms.

Lucius looked almost impressed with Harry's outcome, and Tracer was overjoyed at the level of skill Harry showed.

"My, my, my, most extraordinary! I have never seen someone with no formal training do so well." He gathered up Harry's results and said he would mail him the official statement within a few days time, and left. By this point, Dinner time was nearly upon them, which surprised Harry, as he was sure that he had been in there for a lot longer than that.

"Well done, Harry," Lucius smiled. "Now you have more time to focus on what truly matters here."

Harry nodded. "Indeed. Of course, I have Barty to thank. His teaching has been top-notch. Do pass on my regards and thanks."

Lucius nodded. "I will. Who, do you think, you will seek apprenticeship with?"

Harry shook his head. "I have no idea. Based on my NEWT scores, I should probably go with Defense, Runes or Charms, but I'm not sure. Lupin, who teaches Defense here is a member of Dumbledore's Order, and it will be difficult to move about under his eye. Runes requires a lot of attention be paid to it. And Charms, well, Flitwick seems nice enough but I would prefer something with a bit more freedom."

"Perhaps you should see if that oaf Hagrid will take you on. Or at the very least go to Severus; he at least knows of your mission and can aid you in it."

Harry shook his head again. "No. Snape has already offered before and I turned him down. It would not due to go back on my words then. On top of that, despite his being one of our own, he is too close to Dumbledore."

"Perhaps then you could get on with Madam Hooch. She is getting quite old and may soon retire. You are a fair flyer, Harry and could more than manage such as job as she really is only active in the early months of the year and during Quidditch matches."

"I'll think it over." Harry said, "I can't apply anywhere until I get my official report from the Ministry with my scores anyway. That gives me a couple of days to decide."

Lucius nodded. "Well, I must be going. See you when all of this is over."

Harry called out as Lucius was just about to reach the door. "Lucius, you may want to check in on Draco. He's been acting rather odd since we left on the train."

Lucius turned back with an unreadable expression. "How so?"

"Just that he was saying some things on the platform here that could be taken as threats. Telling associates of the Order that something will happen. Not in so many words, but even I know that the Order members are not stupid and can read into words just as well as we can. We don't need any extra attention on us. This is one of many reasons I refused to let myself be sorted into Slytherin with him. It would be too obvious and he would draw too much attention to us. Keep him heeled, Lucius, or I will."

Lucius noted the seriousness in Harry's tone and smiled. "Of course. We wouldn't want anything to go wrong. I'll speak with him before I leave."

Harry nodded. "Good." He wasn't convinced in the slightest that Lucius had no idea about Draco. He had been the one to take the boy into Knockturn Alley in secret that night after all. Whatever it was the boy was up to, he was absolutely certain that Lucius was involved in it; as were Narcissa, Bellatrix and Fenrir. Though how far this went, he had no clue. For all he knew, more of the Death Eaters could be involved.

After that, Lucius went off in search of his son, and Harry made his way to the Great Hall where dinner was due to start soon. Dumbledore was already there and waved for Harry to join him.

Harry approached the head table and stood before Dumbledore.

"Tracer has told me of your results. Most impressive. What a mind you must have, and skill." He smiled, his eyes twinkling, and Harry again felt a probing touch to his Occlumency shields. He made no outward reaction though.

"Yes, sir. I read a lot," he said truthfully.

Dumbledore chuckled. "That is good. But remember what I said earlier, Harry. Knowledge can be a dangerous thing. I only hope that you use it for the greater good."

Harry cocked his head. "Was that not the motto of Grindelwald, sir? 'For the Greater Good'?"

Dumbledore chuckled again. "Indeed it was. I'm impressed, Harry. Not many know of such things anymore. It would seem that they would rather forget and pretend it didn't happen than know and understand. It is only by understanding the past that we can learn from it, after all." He said meaningfully.

Harry smiled grimly. "So, are my parents here yet?" he asked, the word 'parents' leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

Dumbledore shook his head in the negative. "Not yet. I believe they will be arriving via floo after the meal is completed."

After this, Harry excused himself to the Ravenclaw table, as students were beginning to trickle in from their classes.

Harry sat down as Luna and Hermione entered the Hall. Luna sat next to him with a smile, and Hermione, after some internal debate, sat opposite him. Harry was not expected it, but a moment later he felt someone slam into his back.

He turned around on the bench and found Jimmy sprawled out on the floor behind him. He raised a brow. "Fancy yourself a rug, do you?"

Jimmy scowled and turned red. "No." He sat up and then stood. "But you have a lot of explaining to do!"

Harry sighed. "I know. I take it you are going to be there after dinner in Dumbledore's office?"

Jimmy nodded. "Yep. And don't expect me to go easy on you!" With that he turned on his heel and marched off to the Gryffindor table.

Harry chuckled as he turned back around, finding Hermione frowning at him. "What?"

She just shook her head and looked away.

A small scene occurred when Anthony, the blonde boy from that morning, walked by and 'accidentally' hit Luna with his book-bag and said "Sorry, Loony!" in a voice that said he was anything but sorry.

Harry, quick as a bolt, reached out and seized the boy by the front of his robes and pulled him down so that they were eye to eye. Down the table a ways, the rest of the boys stood up, as if ready to fight. Harry looked Anthony in the eyes, a match the other boy quickly forfeited. "If I see you, or any of your little friends do anything against Luna again, I _will_ hurt you. Is that understood?"

Anthony nodded, and Harry released him.

The blonde boy stood straight and fixed his robes before moving down to sit with his friends, who all began whispering to each other.

Luna looked at him with her wide, unblinking eyes shining. "You didn't have to do that, Harry."

Harry shrugged. "Yeah, I did."

"Well," Luna said quietly, "Thank you."

Harry waved her thanks away. "They need to learn respect. And you need to learn to stand up for yourself. Now, I will step in if I see them do something, but I won't always be there. You need to learn to stand up for yourself."

Luna didn't look too keen on this idea, but she nodded regardless.

Harry wasn't sure why he was doing this for the girl, except maybe he saw a bit of himself in her. A sadness, a loneliness, a desire to be something more.

It was as Harry was finishing his meal that a loud avian cry split the air. Harry, and everyone else, looked upward to see a large black-feathered raven flying down toward him. It landed smoothly on the table in front of him and pecked almost affectionately at his hand.

Harry smiled curiously at the bird and noticed that it had a letter tied to its leg. He untied the letter and opened it.

 _Hello, Harry,_

 _Heard about you getting sorted into Ravenclaw and thought you might like this little gift. Your very own raven. He doesn't have a name yet, but I'm sure you can handle that on your own. You know, I could have gone with an eagle or something, but this seemed more appropriate. The sigil of House Ravenclaw was originally a Raven, you know. Shocking, right? A House called RAVENclaw having a raven as their crest. Doesn't make a lick of sense does it? No, no, the eagle makes much more sense, wouldn't you say? But, seeing as we are old school and all that, I figured this was the way to go. Ravens are much faster than owls too, so this should be to you in no time._

 _Lucy told me that you achieved twelve O.W.L.'s, just like me. Congratulations. And also well-done on your NEWTs. Of course, you couldn't have done it without my teaching but I'll let you enjoy your sense of accomplishment for a bit before I burst your bubble. Oh, wait, I just did that didn't I? Oh well. What can you do?_

 _Good luck, mate._

 _BC._

Harry shook his head as he folded the letter up and stuffed it in his pocket, chuckling lightly at Barty calling Lucius 'Lucy'. The bird was still sitting on the table and was picking at the scraps of meat on his plate. "By all means, have it. I was done," he told it sarcastically. It clicked its beak at him as if to say 'I know'.

He studied the bird as he ran his fingers over the ebony feathers, noting a faint marking on his forehead that resembled an Algir rune – also called Algiz or Elhaz – an ancient Nordic rune that was believed to be a mark of protection.

"That looks almost like a rune, doesn't it?" Luna said, noting the marking as well.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, I thought so too. That's why his name is Rune."

Rune the raven cawed as if in approval of his new name, which no one else knew was new and spread his wings and puffed out his neck feathers proudly. Harry laughed and pet his dark feathers. He sent the bird off to hunt as the deserts appeared. He had to act as if the bird was not new, so people wouldn't ask who had sent it to him.

After the meal, Harry went straight to the Headmaster's office. Jimmy followed at his heels, seeming less upset than he had before.

Jimmy didn't appear at all surprised at the location of the Headmaster's office when Harry spoke the password for it, and in fact was quite familiar with it, having been there several times in his two years at the school. Given what he had heard about the incident with Snape and the Hair-Raising potion, and knowing Snape as he did, he was quite certain that Severus would have been up in arms calling for the boy's expulsion, but it was well known that while Snape had a hatred for the Potters, Dumbledore had an even bigger soft spot for them; at least according to Lucius and Severus.

They entered to find Dumbledore already inside waiting for them, smiling that grandfatherly smile that had his eyes all a-twinkle. Harry, by this point, was getting used to the old man probing his shields and pretty much expected it; but Harry also doubted that Jimmy had any shields to protect his mind from the Headmaster's Legilimency. He felt that odd protectiveness rising up in him and had to physically keep himself from letting it show on his face; Dumbledore may not be able to read his mind, but he could read his face and body language just fine.

"Have a seat, Harry, James," Dumbledore said.

Harry and Jimmy sat, Jimmy frowning at being called by his proper name.

"It is good that you two have already met," Dumbledore told them. "It will make the going much easier, I think." He noted that Jimmy was somewhat upset and the twinkle in his eye increased. "Now, now, James. You cannot blame Harry for not telling you who he was. He had only just found out himself. Imagine, what would you do if you just found out that you had a family you never knew about. A mother, father, and brother that you never knew existed. Think, how overwhelming that must be. How frightening that must be."

Jimmy frowned as Dumbledore spoke, but finally, he nodded and with a sigh he look over at Harry. "Sorry."

Harry shook his head. "Don't be. I'd have felt betrayed too if I met someone more than once and they turned out to be my brother. Especially if they already knew and didn't say anything."

"There, you see," Dumbledore said, "It's already coming together."

The three sat idly chatting until there was another knock at the door. Dumbledore looked over at it and then to Harry with concern.

"It is time, Harry," he said. "Are you ready?"

Harry took a deep breath to steady himself. He had to remember why he was here. What his mission was. Who _he_ was. _What_ he was. He felt his hate and anger there, just beneath the surface, warming him, fueling him, empowering him, and he let it sink just a bit lower below the surface. It would not do for it to make an appearance here. Finally, he nodded to Dumbledore, who called out to those waiting.

"Enter!"

 **XXXX**

 **A/N: Well, there's that. Next chapter is the official meeting of the Potters. They were originally all one big chapter, but it was getting a bit long and so I decided to cut them in half and present them as two chapters. I'll post the next one soon, after I go over it and make sure it's how I want it.**

 **Now, some of you may not like that I basically made Harry really smart, but given who he was trained and taught by (Barty being arguably one of the most intelligent characters in the novels) I didn't think it too far of a stretch that Harry could pass his NEWTs. But I also didn't want the hassle of having to work around classes and homework and such. This way Harry has much more freedom to work toward his goals.**

 **Now, REVIEW PLEASE! Your feedback always motivates me and lets me know if I'm doing good.**

 **-Atrocity.**


	9. Reunion

**IX.** **The Homecoming II: Reunion**

The door swung open to reveal four people, no, five people. There was Lily and James, of course, but there was also Sirius Black, and Professor Remus Lupin. Harry had not been expecting so many, but there was another as well. He spotted Hermione standing beside his mother, looking like she wasn't sure why she was here.

Jimmy immediately ran to his parents and gave them a hug, while Harry stood slowly and turned so he was facing them. He was suddenly very nervous, and he hated it. He comforted himself with the image of unleashing a hail of Killing Curses at everyone present, and mere thought that he could do so calmed him some. Of course, that was not what he was going to do, as there was no guarantee that he could take them all at once.

There was a long pregnant pause as Harry met eyes with Lily, who was looking at him with tears in her eyes and an expression that said that she couldn't decide if what she was seeing was real or not, while James looked suspicious.

Harry fought down a sneer. Of course, being raised by Voldemort, Harry had been taught that muggles were below all witches and wizards, Muggleborns were below Purebloods and Halfbloods, and Halfbloods were below Purebloods, and Purebloods of Ancient and Noble Houses were above the common Pureblood. Harry was of course a Halfblood, as his mother was Muggleborn and his father a Pureblood. This did not hinder his progress in any way, nor did it garner him less respect than he commanded. He had learned early on that despite these prejudices, the Purebloods were willing to accept you if you transcended the blood-status preconceptions. They had been willing to do so, even for Muggleborns, such as his mother when they offered her and James the chance to join them, but they sealed their fate when they spat on the offered hand and threw in their lot with Dumbledore and his anti-traditionalist movement. As such, Harry viewed her as beneath him on all levels, but this was a delicate situation, and he would have to keep that view hidden if he wanted to maintain his cover.

Finally, the silence went on long enough and Harry opted to break it. "Er...Hello."

There was another slight pause, and then laughter filled the room. Harry noticed that it was Sirius who was doing the laughing, while Remus was chuckling, seeing his friend so undone. James was looking at the two of them as if they had finally lost it, but Lily was still looking right at him.

"He comes back from the dead and all he has to say is 'er...hello'?" Sirius was still beside himself with laughter and James, now seeing the humor in the situation, joined in, though to Harry it sounded a bit forced.

The laughter died out though as Lily suddenly ran forward, throwing her arms around Harry, weeping uncontrollably into his shoulder. "I-I knew it was you..." she sobbed. "...I knew it.."

Harry awkwardly put an arm around her in what he hoped was a comforting manner. "Erm...please don't cry." Even he detected the hint of pleading in his voice.

This did little good though, as Lily cried even more at hearing his voice, which was the sweetest sound in the world at the moment for her. James came forward as well and put an arm around each of them, smiling a bit stiffly at Harry and then giving Lily a kiss on her head. Jimmy joined a moment later and the picture was complete. The whole Potter family, together. Reunited after so many long years. It was like something out of a story book, but of course it was never that simple in real life. There was no 'and they lived happily ever after' or even some magical feeling that made it as though they had all known each other forever. No, it was never that easy.

Finally they all broke apart. Harry took a step back and James pulled Lily to him as she was still sniffling.

Dumbledore, his eye twinkle at full capacity, conjured more chairs and asked everyone to sit. Hermione offered to leave, as she was not part of the family, but Lily asked her to stay, and so she did. Tea was brought in by House Elves, and Harry immediately tested it for any poisons or tampering. When he found nothing, he sighed and drank. It wasn't that he didn't trust Dumbledore not to put something in his tea, it was just that he was Harry Potter, and he didn't trust hardly anyone with anything. It was a short list of those he trusted and it consisted of four beings; himself, Barty, Kreacher and Dobby.

Of course, there were many questions to answer, from all around.

"How did you survive?" James asked, eyes narrowing slightly.

Harry shook his head. "I don't know. I don't remember."

"I would expect not. He was a baby, after all," Sirius said, giving James a look that said even he should have known that.

James ignored his best friend. "We went back for you. Right after. But when we got there, the house was destroyed and you...you were gone."

"Voldemort must have taken him," Remus chimed in seriously.

James and Lily nodded. "That was what we feared," James said, looking at Harry with that suspicious glint that he was certain only he had seen.

"What do you remember?" Remus asked, his face a mask of concern.

Harry shrugged. "Not much. My earliest recollection was when I was found by Bartholomew, the wizard who took me in. I was wandering around a dirty street, which I later discovered was Knockturn Alley. Bartholomew found me and nursed me back to health, then took me with him back to his home in New Zealand. And for the longest time, that was the only life I knew. I never attended school, but Bartholomew taught me everything he knew, and the rest I learned from books that he procured for me on his trips to the various Wizarding communities. It wasn't until just recently, when he was ill, and dying, that he told me the truth about who I was. He told me that he had known for years who I really was. He was afraid to tell me, lest I leave. See, he had come to think of me as his son and he didn't want me to leave, because he knew I would want to come back once I knew. So he waited until he was on his deathbed."

"Is that why you can see those Thestral thingies?" Jimmy asked.

Harry only nodded, his eyes going distant as he thought about the strange skeletal beasts.

"So the other day when we saw you in the Weasleys' shop, that was..what? You kind of feeling it out? Just getting a look?" Hermione asked, speaking for the first time since they had all sat down. She must have noticed the faraway look in his eyes and misinterpreted it as him reliving some sad memory; perhaps this death, which was in fact not real, but only Harry knew that.

Harry shook his head. "I would say that it was coincidence, but I don't believe in coincidence." He smiled. "The Universe is rarely so lazy."

Remus smiled slightly at that. "That's a fine way of seeing it."

Lily finally gathered herself enough to ask a question that had been burning in her mind since she had arrived. "Why did you flee when I saw you at the shop? If you knew who we were, why leave? Why not introduce yourself then and there?"

Harry gaze a tight-lipped smile at this. "Would you have believed me?" He could see that they were seriously considering this, though James looked as if he wasn't sure he believed it now, and so he added. "I wasn't ready. I had just found out who you were and then run into you out of nowhere. I was scared. Scared you wouldn't understand. That you wouldn't believe me." Harry had to admit, that this whole lying thing was getting easier the more he did it. But he tried to think of it as more of playing a part, rather than outright lying. Either way, he was getting used to it.

Lily seemed to accept this, giving him a sad, understanding look.

"So, are you going to have to start from the beginning here at school?" Sirius asked, as if the idea of a near-grown man attending class with first years was the funniest thing he could think of.

Harry shook his head. "No. I've already sat my exams for each year, as well as my O.W.L.'s and NEWTS. I started early this morning, and finished just before dinner. I'm actually ahead of all of the other students here."

Hermione's mouth fell open. "You can take the exams early?" She looked horrified that she had not known about this beforehand.

"How many O.W.L.'s did you get?" James asked, before Harry could say anything to Hermione.

Harry sat up straighter. He was quite proud of himself. "Twelve."

James and Sirius gaped, while Lily smiled brightly and Remus looked mildly impressed. "Only a few have done that that I can think of," the werewolf said. "There was Bill Weasley, and his brother Percy. And there was Barty Crouch Jr., he did as well. And now you, Harry. The other three were all Head Boy in their seventh years though, so that sets you apart in that regard. You are also the only one to do it without actually having attended even a single year at Hogwarts. But I must ask, how did you manage to do them all in a single day? That's quite impressive."

It was Sirius who answered. "In cases such as this, the representative of the Department for Magical Education is given special permission to cast a ward around them that makes time within pass at a slower rate than outside. So Harry would have been in there for quite a while, but everyone else was going about their day as normal."

"Does this mean you're leaving Hogwarts?" Jimmy asked, cutting into the conversation, looking very put out by this thought. He had just found out that his brother, whom he had been told was dead, was alive and was going to get to spend a whole year at Hogwarts with him. Now, they were saying that he had finished all of his exams and could technically leave at any time. He didn't want Harry to leave.

Dumbledore spoke up now, after having stayed silent and simply watching during the whole conversation. "I was going to ask Harry to stay on as an apprentice to one of our instructors. Remus, perhaps for you?"

Remus started to consider it, seeing Jimmy's pleading, hopeful eyes on him. "It would definitely help, I think, to have someone other than Severus be there to cover my classes when I am ill," he said meaningfully. "If Harry is up for it, that is."

Jimmy's eyes were now on Harry, who shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

Finally, Harry nodded. "That sounds fine. I'll have to wait until I get my official certificate that says I have completed my exams and such, then I can formally apply." He hadn't planned on asking Remus, but it seemed that that was the way it was going. And he doubted he could come up with a reasonable, believable reason not to. On the other hand, Remus was a member of the Order, and could possibly be a source for inside information if Harry played his cards right.

Dumbledore smiled. "That's settled then."

Jimmy did a sort of little jig in his chair as this was said, smiling brightly up at Harry. It seemed that any ill feelings he had had toward Harry for not telling him who he was sooner were gone, or at least forgotten. Harry was glad for this. He actually liked the kid.

Lily was smiling proudly. "My boys." She looked at the two of them with unbridled affection.

Harry felt his face heat up, another unusual experience for the normally stoic killer. What was all of this? Why was all of this affecting him like this? He had some idea, but he was loath to consider it. Could it be that he was enjoying this? That he was actually happy being back with his family? No, he decided. He wasn't. But the boy inside of him, the one that was long dead, though partially revived for the time being, was. Yes, the Harry Potter that had once been was basking in this, while the true Harry was just beneath the surface, aching to unleash his hurt and anger upon them all.

As the evening wore on, the group broke off into smaller groups, talking amongst themselves. Dumbledore sat back watching them all with a genuinely happy smile on his face. It wasn't everyday one got to witness the reunification of a broken family.

Jimmy, the poor boy, had fallen asleep in his chair. Harry took off his topcoat and laid it over the boy to keep him warm, a small smile gracing his features as he did this. He looked from his little brother over to where his parents were talking to Sirius and Remus animatedly – or at least James was, for her part, Lily was listening and chipping in, but she kept turning to look at her two sons with the happiest face Harry could ever remember seeing – and shook his head at the strangeness of his situation.

"You know, I haven't seen her so happy in quite a while."

Harry turned to Hermione, who was watching his parents as well.

"Have you known them a long time?" he asked.

Hermione nodded. "My first year here, I was told that as a Muggleborn I would need a magical guardian, since Muggles have no station or power in the Wizarding world. Your mother was kind enough to volunteer. Six years now, and they're as much my family as my real parents." She smiled. "I owe them a lot, you know. They've done so much for me."

Harry bit back a response. He wanted to say that that was all well and good, but where were they when _he_ had needed them? That they had run away and left him to die. That they were cowards. But he said none of these things. Instead, he said, "They seem to be good people." He sat back down in his chair. "Honestly, I was afraid when I came back to England, that I was going to find them and they'd turn out to be pompous fools, or petty imbeciles. I am glad to have been wrong in this."

Hermione smiled at him for what Harry believed to be the first time. "I can understand why you would be afraid of that. It must be so overwhelming for you. All of this." She waved her hand over the room in general.

Harry nodded. "You have no idea." He chuckled. "When I first found out who I was, I was shocked, and hurt. I had been led to believe that I was someone else for so long that the knowledge that I was in fact the son of Lily and James Potter seemed like some cruel joke. At the time I did not know the true circumstances surrounding my separation from them and thought that they had not wanted me." Harry was surprised to find that everything he had just said was true.

Hermione looked at him with what he thought was pity. It took him a moment to realize that it was sympathy. He had hardly seen that emotion on display, save perhaps from Barty. "I can't imagine going through something like that. So, what did you go by before you discovered who you really were?"

"Harrald," he answered. "That's what I introduced myself to Fred and George as, and to Jimmy too."

Hermione looked amused. "Harrald?"

Harry cocked his head. "Are you making fun of me?"

Hermione shook her head, but she was still smiling with mirth in her eyes. "No!" Then she said, "It's just...it makes you sound so old!"

Harry chuckled. "You aren't the first to say that. George told me that it made me sound like an 'old Scandinavian'."

Hermione smirked. "He's not wrong."

Harry shook his head. He was never going to escape that comparison was he?

"So, what is you favorite subject?" Hermione asked.

Harry thought about it. He couldn't tell the truth, since he was sure that The Dark Arts wasn't an acceptable answer. "Probably either Defense Against the Dark Arts, or Ancient Runes. Maybe History as well. I'm not sure. I passed all three of those with O's on my NEWT's."

Hermione raised her brow. "Really? O's? That's...impressive." And she really did seem impressed. "I think I'm best with Charms and Arithmancy. Though I think I enjoy Arithmancy a bit more. Just something about the way we can use numbers to tell us about not just magic in general but the very fabric of our world is so fascinating. Finding the numerical patterns of the Universe..." She trailed off with a pleasant sigh.

Harry grinned. "Supposedly one can predict future events with Arithmancy by studying the patterns and probabilities. You buy into all of that?"

Hermione thought about it. "I don't know. I despise Divination. It's such an imprecise field. There's no logic or science to it. It's pretty much just a lot of guesswork. If you guess enough you're bound to be right at some point. But honestly, Arithmancy has been proven to be able to predict large-scale events in the past, so I do believe that it is possible in that regard. Nostradamus was a skilled Arithmancer and he predicted Hitler. Numerology plays a large role in this as in Divination, but Arithmancy is much more scientific and thorough."

Harry nodded. "But if one takes into account the vagueness of Nostradamus' true prediction, it could easily apply to Grindelwald as well. He used more Divination in his prophecies than he did Arithmancy. Not to discredit Arithmancy as a field of study, but it is best when applied to such events and natural disasters. Earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, hurricanes, cyclones. Things like that."

They continued like this for what seemed like hours, oblivious to the others in the room. They didn't notice Sirius nudge James and point at them with waggling eyebrows, only to be smacked by Lily. Nor did they notice Dumbledore watching them closely.

"...so if one takes into account that small variation in the frequency of activity, we can determine that Vesuvius will erupt again - a full-scale eruption, mind you - somewhere between 2019 and 2022 but..."

Harry nodded along with her as she went on to add other variations to her equation, everything from rises or falls in global temperature to tectonic plate movement to both widen and shorten the time-gap, or even change it all together. He could tell that she was passionate about her work in this particular field, and that she was quite brilliant at it as well. While he understood the theory and could work through an equation without too much difficulty, he had never put that much focus on the study of Arithmancy.

Finally, Dumbledore saw fit to call an end to the night, his reason being that Hermione and Jimmy had classes the next morning, and several of the adults had jobs as well.

They all bid the Headmaster goodnight, and James scooped the still-sleeping Jimmy up in his arms after giving Harry back his topcoat. Harry received a hug from his mother and a smile and nod from his father, who seemed to have relaxed a bit as he was not shooting any suspicious glances his way, a handshake and a wink from Sirius and a pat on the shoulder from Remus before they all parted ways, James and Sirius taking Jimmy back to Gryffindor Tower after getting the current password from Dumbledore.

Harry and Hermione walked back to Ravenclaw Tower together, Hermione still going on about numbers and such. Harry was only half-listening as the events of the day were catching up to him and he could feel himself growing quite weary. Hermione too was tired, he could see it plainly.

When they reached the Aerie, Hermione volunteered to answer the riddle to get them inside.

" _If it is information you seek, come and see me. If it's pairs of letters you need, I have consecutively three._ "

Hermione pondered for a moment before answering, "A bookkeeper."

The door swung open and they walked in. Given that it was past midnight, neither were surprised to find the common room completely empty.

They bid each other goodnight and retired to their respective dormitories. Harry laid in his four-poster with the curtains drawn tight and replayed the day in his head as he felt himself drifting off. His last thought before sleep claimed him was that he would have to be careful, lest he lose himself to the ghost of Harry James Potter.

 **XXXX**

 **A/N: Well, there it is, the second half. All done. As always, let me know what you all think, please.**

 **THANK YOU TO ALL WHO REVIEWED, FAVORITED and FOLLOWED. You guys are the best.**

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	10. The Hangman

**X. The Hangman**

Harry awoke with a scream. His left arm felt like it was on fire. He thrashed about, clutching at the forearm, his teeth clenched against the pain, lest he let out another scream. In his fit, he crashed off of his bed to land hard on the stone floor, his shoulder taking a bruising.

Finally, after what felt like several long minutes, the pain began to slowly fade away. He gasped for breath as his eyes cleared and his mind began to work again now that he wasn't blinded by the pain. He pulled himself into a sitting position against the side of his bed, his body drenched in sweat and his hair hanging limp in front of his eyes.

He focused on his breathing, getting his heartbeat under control.

Looking down at his arm, which was now only aching, to see that the Dark Mark was even more bold than usual and tinged in red.

Harry knew what this meant of course. Voldemort was calling them. All of his Death Eaters. Recalling the entire troop to his side. This must mean something was going on. Something big. This had not happened in a long time.

He struggled to his feet and stumbled to the shower, stepping into the cold spray. The icy water had little effect on the burning Mark, so he gave up the effort and shut off the water.

It was a good thing that he no longer had to bunk in Ravenclaw Tower. As an apprentice to the Professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts, he was given his own separate living quarters near the Defense classroom.

He had been assisting Remus with classes for a couple of months now and he had to admit that he was enjoying it. He had had to cover for Lupin twice already, and he had done well on his own, though it took a bit of hardness on his part to get the older students to take him seriously.

Harry was now glad that they had the day off today, despite that it was only Friday. Dumbledore had decided to give them this Hallowe'en off. Given that it was Hallowe'en, Harry should have expected this summons. Voldemort always marked certain magical days with a killing, and this year it seemed was no exception.

He dressed and made his way down to the Great Hall.

Despite that he could sit at the staff table if he wished, Harry opted to sit at the Ravenclaw table today instead. He looked up at where a few members of the staff were already seated and noticed Snape whispering to Dumbledore, his hand clutching where Harry knew the Mark to be hidden beneath his robes. After a short conversation, Snape left the Hall and exited out the front doors.

Harry sighed. Snape was a known double agent, and thus was allowed to go and see what grand design the Dark Lord had to mark this day when the veil between worlds was thinnest. It was also the day he had been taken in by the Dark Lord, and Harry usually led whatever raid had been planned for the day. He was disappointed that he would have to miss the fun this year.

Harry ate slowly, as was his usual habit, but today he hardly tasted his food and it barely registered when he was finished. Nor had he noticed that Hermione and Luna had taken seats next to him and across from him respectively.

"Are you all right, Harry?" Hermione asked him.

He looked up at her blankly, then shook his head to clear it. "What? Oh, yeah. Just thinking."

Hermione didn't look convinced but let the issue go. They had become sort of friends over the last couple of months since that night in Dumbledore's office, but there were moments where they both kind of distanced themselves. They were fewer now than they had been at first but, like now, they still popped up from time to time. They hadn't really talked much about themselves and so in a way they were still much like strangers. This wasn't for lack of trying on Hermione's part, but Harry was playing things close to the vest and withheld much from her probing.

He caught sight of Draco at the Slytherin table, talking quietly to Pansy. The boy was looking rather haggard, as if he wasn't getting much sleep. Dark circles under his eyes, lack of appetite, paler than normal complexion, his normally thin frame looking more and more gaunt. What was going on with the Malfoy heir?

Finally, Malfoy got up with a dark look on his face and stomped out of the Great Hall, leaving Pansy looking like she was ready to cry.

Harry stood and after telling Hermione and Luna that he'd see them later, followed in Draco's wake. Unbeknownst to him, Pansy had seen him go and was now scrambling to follow as well.

Harry stalked Draco, staying ducked behind corners until Draco took the next, then quietly sprinting after. He was not aware that someone else was following him in much the same manner, mimicking his movements to try and mask their own. Had Harry not been so focused on Draco, he might have noticed that there were extra footfalls echoing about. As it was, he chalked it up to sound reverberation in the openness of the corridors.

He did this for quite some time, all the way up to the seventh floor, to a deserted corridor where Draco began pacing back and forth in front of a blank space of wall. Harry furrowed his brow at this odd behavior. He was about to reveal himself and confront the Slytherin when the wall suddenly wasn't a wall at all. There, where there had been nothing but plain, bare stone stood a large door. Draco entered and closed the door, which disappeared behind him.

Harry stepped out from his hiding place and walked over to the spot he had seen the door, running his hand over the stones there. They felt normal to him. And yet, he knew that his eyes had not being playing tricks on him. Of that he was deathly certain.

He heard a scuffing sound from behind him and spun on his heel, his wand seeming to appear in his hand. "Come out!"

There was a moment of tense silence, then Pansy stuck her head out from around the corner. Her hands appeared a second later, empty. "Don't do anything," she pleaded as she stepped out into the open.

"Why are you following me?" Harry demanded, not lowering his wand.

"I could ask the same of _you_ ," she countered with an annoyed glare. "Put the wand away. I'm not gonna attack you or anything."

Harry held his position for a moment before relaxing a bit and returning his wand to its holster. "Why were you following me?" he asked again, less aggressively

Pansy shook her head. "Why are you following Draco?" Seeing Harry starting to lose his patience again she quickly added in, "The two questions are related."

Harry sighed. "Fine. I'm following Draco because he's been acting strange since before we even came here and now he's sneaking off to whatever the hell this place is for an unknown reason. And whatever it is he's doing in there, he's been doing for some time now and it is evidently taking a toll on him. You can't deny it. Everyone can see it. Even Professor Lupin has commented on it me one more than one occasion after classes." And this was very true. He likened it to how he got once a month before his transformations, which he had reluctantly told Harry about when Harry confronted him about his two absences being in synchronization with the moon cycle, the full moon to be precise. Of course, Harry had actually already known about this from Snape long before now, but Lupin didn't know that. He felt that after their conversation about it, where Harry assured him that the knowledge didn't bother him, he and Lupin had grown a bit closer as Master and Apprentice of Defense Against the Dark Arts. Not that Harry really cared about the Professor, despite the almost familial way Lupin treated him. It was all a means to an end.

Pansy looked suddenly nervous. "I..I don't know."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "You're lying."

"N-no I-I'm not," she countered stuttering.

"Another lie." Harry walked toward her and she backpedaled until her back was literally against the wall. Harry leaned in close so that they were almost literally eye-to-eye. "What did I tell you the last time we found ourselves in this position?" he brought his hand up so that the back of his fingers were just touching the skin of her throat. A warning. A threat. She closed her eyes against his piercing stare. "I told you how to stay alive," he provided for her when no answer was forthcoming. "Do you remember?" She nodded. "Good. Now, despite that being some time ago, it still stands. If you want both yourself and your little blonde prince to survive, you need to _stay out of my way_. Now, I don't know what Draco is up to, but I tell you this: if he acts against me, you will both pay the consequences. Is that clear?" Pansy nodded again, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. "Good." Harry stepped away from her, leaving her breathing in relief. "You tell him. You tell him that if I find out he is acting against me in any way, I will kill you both, and there is nothing Lucius or anyone else can do about it."

With that last threat, he walked away, trotting down the stairs and through the corridors until he was passing the gargoyle that marked the entrance to the Headmaster's office. As it happened, the gargoyle was moving aside at that very moment and Professor Lupin walked out. He caught sight of Harry and his expression brightened. "Ah, Harry. Just the man I was about to go looking for."

Harry arranged his face into a mostly neutral expression, with a bit of warmth and familiarity. "What is it you need, Professor?"

Lupin chuckled. "Harry, I've told you, I'm no longer your teacher; or to be precise, I _never_ was. You don't need to call me that outside of class."

Harry smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, Remus."

"Better," the werewolf smiled.

"So what was it you were needing? You said you were looking for me?"

Remus nodded. "Yes. It is fortunate that I found you so close. Albus asked me to send you his way if I say you. He says that it is rather important that you come and see him soon."

Harry frowned. He had been planning to go for a walk around the lake, maybe kip off to the Dark Forest for a bit. Clear his head. Figure out his next move. But, he supposed, given that Dumbledore was his target, Harry should take any chance he was given to be near the man. Study him. Learn his mind and manner. _Know_ him. "I'll head right up then."

Remus nodded. "I think that would be best." He walked passed Harry, giving him a gentle clap on the shoulder as did. "See you in class Monday," he said.

Harry climbed the spiral staircase up to the Headmaster's office and knocked on the door. "Enter!" he head from within and walked inside. "Ah, Harry," he didn't sound at all surprised at the reveal of who it was and Harry was even more sure that he had some manner of seeing through or beyond the door. "Am I to assume that Remus sent you?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, sir. I was just passing by when he came out from here. He said you wanted to see me?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Indeed I did. And I still do. Tell me, have you ever heard the name Tom Riddle?"

Harry shook his head. "No. Should I have?"

Dumbledore had a knowing look in his eye. "I should think not. Not many have. Tom Marvolo Riddle. Though most have never heard the name, they would be surprised to know that they have heard of him. Even you."

Harry frowned. "I don't understand."

Dumbledore smiled. "Here, let me show you." He drew his wand and began writing in the air in front of him in fiery floating letters: _TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE_. Harry stepped closer, looking at the letters as if there was were some hidden meaning to them that he could not see. After a short moment, Dumbledore waved his wand and the letters began moving and rearranging themselves. They now formed the declaration: _I AM LORD VOLDEMORT_.

Harry gaped, the wheels in his head turning like the cogs of some great complex machine. Through all these years, he had lived with, been trained by, had been _raised_ by Lord Voldemort, and had never once had ever known his true name. He felt hurt, betrayed. The man professed to be him father, but did not trust him with this bit of simple information.

Dumbledore saw the shock and said, "Yes. It is a curious thing, knowledge. The less we know of something, the more we fear it. In the reverse, the more we know, or think we know, the less frightening it becomes. In a perfect world I could but show this to everyone and I think it would do much to demystify the Dark Lord in everyone's eyes. Unfortunately, I fear that the damage has already been done. Now matter the name we call him by, his deeds and the terror he has sewn are already set in stone and it will take some time after he is gone for the waters of time to wear it away and leave the stone smooth and blank once more. But, therein lies the problem I am faced with."

Dumbledore waved his hand and the floating letters faded into nothing. He moved behind his desk and ran a hand over the spines of his books.

Harry was still rooted to the spot, the after-image of the fiery letters still burned into his retina. It all threw into doubt what he knew about the man who had been as much as father to him as anyone, save perhaps Barty. Had he ever truly known anything about him? Had Voldemort ever truly trusted him? Or was he merely a tool to be used until it was no longer needed? Or was there more to it? Perhaps he had never been told this because the Dark Lord wanted to leave his past behind him and let it be forgotten. That may be it.

Dumbledore pulled a black tome from the shelf. "I do believe you had an interest in this before," he said, snapping Harry back to the present. He laid the book on the desk and Harry moved forward to look at it. _Secrets of the Darkest Art_. "Tell me, Harry, have you ever heard of a Horcrux?"

Harry shook his head. "No."

"In simple terms it is a vessel in which one stores a portion of their soul. An anchor to this mortal realm. Created first in a time immemorial by wizards who feared the thought of death so much that they sought to avoid it permanently. I'm very sad to say that they succeeded in finding a way. And the first to ever actually do so was an ancient dark wizard called Herpo the Foul. He rose to power in Greece in a time before the Battle of Troy. His secrets were lost for quite some time until they were rediscovered and recorded by a dark wizard in the aptly named Dark Ages. This tome is the result of that wizard's efforts. There were only three copies in the entire world. I hold one, one is in Norway, locked away by the Ministry there, and the other was lost to the sea long ago. Until about twenty years ago, this copy resided in the Restricted section of our Library here. A grave mistake on the part of one of my predecessors." He looked up at the paintings that adorned the circumference of the room. None of them witches or wizards in those portraits would meet their eyes, so Harry was unsure which it had been to acquire the tome and place it in the library.

Harry touched the book. "Forgive me, sir, but what does all of this have to do with me?"

Dumbledore smiled. "You, Harry, are the answer to my problem. You see, I've been trying to find a way to destroy Tom for so long, and every attempt thus far has failed. He has too much power and he knows all of my operatives. We haven't been able to get a man on the inside since our last one was killed before he even got the chance to learn anything." Harry inwardly smiled at this, knowing he had been the one to kill the man. "But you...you are an unknown factor. A variable in the equation. A wild card, if you will. He won't see you coming. And that makes you dangerous and just the sort of weapon we need to turn this war around."

Harry almost sneered at being referred to as a weapon, but in the end, he let it slide. He was a weapon, but so much more than that as well, and soon they would all come to learn that. "How? What do you want of me?"

"I want you do help me destroy him, Harry. I know that together we can end the threat of Lord Voldemort once and for all."

Harry thought a moment, then decided that yes, he would do this. After all, he didn't want to be a pawn in Voldemort's game forever. He knew he was meant for greater things than that. He had long chaffed under his thumb, even growing resentful of the man's claim to be his father. As Harry often had to remind Barty and the Carrows, he had no father. One was dead to him already, and now one would actually be dead, and the other soon after. He nodded. "OK. I'll help." But that won't save you though, he thought as the old man smiled in gratitude. Suddenly something occurred to him. "So this is what you meant when you said that you may need my help with another _riddle_."

Dumbledore laughed. "Yes. Yes. Good memory, my boy."

Harry picked up the tome, looking at it. "So, what does Voldemort have to do with these _Horcrux_ things?" He dropped the book back on the desk.

Dumbledore reached up and tapped his nose. "Come, I have something to show you." He walked over to a large cabinet. Harry joined him as the door was opened to reveal row upon row of phials filled a swirling silvery substance. "These are memories, Harry. I've been collecting them for some time." He touched a phial at the front. "This was the final piece to the initial puzzle. I acquired it only recently – just before the start of term to be exact – from an old friend by the name of Horace Slughorn. He taught Riddle during his time here at Hogwarts, and thanks to him I now know what we are truly up against." He reached in and pulled out a phial labeled 'Wool's Orphanage 1938'. At about waist height there was a stone bowl carved with runes that Harry immediately recognized as a Pensieve. Dumbledore poured the memory into the bowl, where it began stirring itself into a whirlpool. "Shall we?" Dumbledore asked, and after a nod, the two delved into the memory.

Harry watched as a much younger Dumbledore met with the child form of Voldemort. Even at that age, Harry could see the darkness that surrounded the boy. It was evident in the cold, black, empty eyes. Eyes like a doll, or a shark. Empty. Soulless. No love or warmth to be found in them. Harry wondered if this was what people saw within his own eyes.

He listened as Tom told Dumbledore about how he could speak to snakes, and about how he could hurt those who hurt him. Finally, they exited the memory.

When the memory was done, Harry sat down, running a hand through his hair. Finally he sighed. "Did you know?" At Dumbledore's questioning look Harry clarified. "Did you know what he would become?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "Alas, I did not. In retrospect, it should have been obvious. The complete lack of remorse or any other feeling for that matter should have tipped me off." He appeared frustrated by his lack of perception at the time. "Shall we view another?"

Harry nodded and made his way back over.

After viewing several more memories Harry learned more about the man who had raised him in those few hours than he had his entire life. He learned that Voldemort, or Tom Riddle, was a Halfblood, son of the Pureblood witch Merope Gaunt and the Muggle Tom Riddle Sr. from Little Hangleton. Voldemort and his family were direct descendents of Salazar Slytherin himself, through generations of inbreeding in a misguided attempt to keep their line completely pure of any outside mingling. From them, Voldemort had acquired a ring that had been passed down to them through an ancestor by the name of Peverelle, in one of few instances where the main line married into another family. It must have happened more than once though for them to have the name Gaunt rather than either Slytherin or Peverelle. He knew that he had let loose a basilisk on the school, though there was never any proof for it and instead Hagrid was framed for the attacks and expelled. Dumbledore of course suspected the horrible truth and arranged for Hagrid to remain at Hogwarts and within the Wizarding world as gamekeeper. Harry was loathe to admit it, but he was impressed with Voldemort's cunning.

"I have one more memory to show you, Harry, before we call it a day." He beckoned Harry back over as he pulled out the latest memory. "The rest that we have not seen are merely attestations to his character from those who knew him at school. But this, this is my Holy Grail, if you'll pardon the term." He poured it in the Pensieve.

Harry and he delved into the memory and Harry immediately knew that something was different about this memory. It was darker. Tinged with regret.

There was Tom Riddle, no older than Harry himself was now, sitting at a table with a portly man and several other students. The portly man was munching merrily on a bowl of some sort of sweets. Harry and Dumbledore stood by, waiting. As the group disbanded and the other students left, the Professor had his back to the room as he tended to the fire. Finally he turned to find that Tom had remained. "All right there, Tom? It's late, you should get back to your dorm or I daresay Headmaster Dippet may expel us both." He laughed at his own little joke.

Tom did not go though, merely stood there, looking rather creepy as far as Harry was concerned. Slughorn must have shared this sentiment because his expression grew uncomfortable.

"Tom? Is there something you needed?" Slughorn asked, his voice wavering a bit.

"Sir," Tom started, his voice soft, "I was wondering...there's something I wish to ask you about. I can't go to any of the other teachers, they aren't like you, they wouldn't understand."

Harry frowned at the use of flattery. The Voldemort he knew would never do such a thing as he viewed it as being beneath him.

"Yes? What is it, Tom?" Slughorn pressed.

"Well, you see, sir," Tom took a deep breath as if to steel himself. "I was in the library the other day, in the Restricted Section, and I came across a bit of rare magic. I believe it was called a _Horcrux_ , or something like that. I was wondering if you could tell me anything about it."

Slughorn grew pale and he stammered for a moment before finding his voice. "W-why on earth would you want to know about something like that, Tom? This is dark magic, _very_ dark magic indeed."

"Well, sir, you see, the thing is that I couldn't quite grasp the concept of it. What exactly is a Horcrux?"

Slughorn sighed. "I suppose if I explain it to you, you'll understand why this magic has been left to be forgotten all these centuries." He went over to a small table where a decanter sat filled with a deep amber liquid and poured some of it into a glass, taking a long gulp before refilling it. "Well, in simple terms, a Horcrux is a vessel within which one stores a piece of their soul." Harry noted that was practically word-for-word what Dumbledore had told him earlier. "The Horcrux acts as a tether, holding the soul piece to this plane. In other words, you cannot die, unless the Horcrux is destroyed. But to create one...you have to kill someone. You see, murder is an act against the very fabric of nature and it tears the soul apart. Once the soul it torn, a piece of it may be placed into an object. The soul will reform, but it will never be whole."

Tom had a calculating look in his eyes. "So, can there be only one Horcrux, or could one create more, say, six? Split the soul into seven?"

Slughorn's eyes bulged. " _S-seven_? Tom...killing one person is bad enough, but to tear the soul into seven pieces...why, it is unfathomable. The process alone is very dangerous and most who have attempted it have died. Even Herpo the Foul only ever made one! But six Horcruxes, providing one could survive that it is unknown what sort of effect it may have on the person. They may lose what humanity they have, if they even had any left after killing so many..."

"But it _can_ be done?" Tom pressed, seemingly ignoring everything else Slughorn had said. Now there was the Voldemort Harry knew.

Slughorn drained his glass. "In theory, yes, but...Tom, this is all academic, right? All theoretical?"

Tom nodded. "Of course, sir."

Slughorn didn't look convinced but he sighed and nodded anyway. "Good. Tom, I want you to promise me that you won't delve any further into this matter. Please, just put it behind you."

"Yes, sir."

"Promise me, Tom!"

Tom smirked, turning his ring, the Gaunt Ring, on his finger. "I promise, sir."

Harry and Dumbledore emerged from the memory, and Harry's head was swimming. He could tell that Tom had been lying when he promised not to look further into Horcruxes. Which led Harry to believe that he had gone through and created them. He had certainly killed enough to be able to do so. He felt a weight like lead settle in his stomach. Yet another thing he had not been trusted to know.

He looked over to Dumbledore. "Did he do it, sir? Did he create the Horcruxes?"

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "He did indeed." He walked over to his desk and opened a drawer. He pulled out a small box and laid it on the desk. Harry joined him. He opened the box and there, sitting inside was the Gaunt Ring.

"Where did you get this?" Harry asked.

"The Gaunt family home, in Little Hangleton. It would seem that Tom thought hiding it there would mean that it was safe. I suspect that he has hidden the rest as well. I searched his father's house as well, but found nothing. It would seem that his hatred for Muggles, and indeed his own father, would mean he had no fond memories of the place. This, however, was not the only one I have found." He reached into the same drawer and pulled out an old leather-bound diary. "I confiscated this from a student five years ago. I happened to see it as it fell out of his bag and I, thankfully, was able to take it without him noticing. It belonged to Tom when he was at school here. How it came into the possession of a student, I have no idea."

Harry was curious. "Which student, sir?"

"Draco Malfoy. It was in his second year. I do not know where he got it, or how he got, but I am grateful that I was able to discover it. At the time, I did not know what it was I truly held, but with time, it became clear."

Harry thought back to that time. The Ministry had been conducting widespread raids on residences in search of dark or cursed objects, and Lucius had sold off quite a bit of stuff in case they came knocking. Perhaps this had been amongst those items and Draco had fished it out for himself. Though why the boy had chosen a diary of all things, Harry had no idea. The other option what that Voldemort had given it to the boy to hide for him. He wondered what Draco had said to cover for himself.

"Though, how to destroy it is not at all clear," Dumbledore continued. He pulled _Secrets of the Darkest Art_ toward him from where it still lay on the desk. "It is only speculated at in here. Basilisk venom, Goblin silver, Fiendfyre, and sheer willpower. Beyond that, there is nothing, at least not that we know of."

Harry was about to ask if he had tried any of these things when the door to the office burst open and Lupin entered, slightly out of breath.

"Professor, there's been an attack." He was clutching a copy of the Daily Prophet in his hand. "The Bones family, they're all dead!"

Dumbledore's face grew sad and his eyes closed. Finally, he opened them back up and asked, "Voldemort?"

Remus nodded and spread the paper out on the desk. Emblazoned on the front page was a picture of a great manor house with the Dark Mark floating above it, serpent curling mockingly out of the mouth of a great skull.

"What happened?" Harry asked, hoping he didn't sound too eager.

"A Death Eater, only one according to the House Elves, came in and Imperiused the family." Lupin looked ill as he said the next part. "He made them kill themselves, Professor. Hanged themselves, then he released them from the curse after it was too late for them to save themselves."

"Did they say anything about the Death Eater?" Harry asked, "Did they see a face?"

Remus shook his head. "No."

Dumbledore chimed in. "Death Eaters wear masks, Harry, to hide their identities."

Remus nodded. "They said the mask was plain," he was pointing to a line in the article, then flipped the page to show a blurry image of a hooded masked figure.

Harry immediately recognized the man. He had worked with him countless time. It was Barty. "How did they get this picture?" he asked.

"House Elf memory, it says. They're calling him The Hangman, Professor."

Dumbledore sighed. "Yet another name the public will come to fear. I wish the Prophet would cease with this ridiculous habit of naming killers. It does not help matters."

Harry was silently admiring Barty for his ingenuity. It was hard to stand out from the ranks, but Barty and he had been finding ways to do it. And now, Barty had gone and earned himself a nickname in the press. Harry was almost jealous.

Dumbledore sighed. "I think we'll call it a day, Harry. I must go to the Ministry. It will be in disarray for sure. Amelia was the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and a prominent member of the Wizengamot. If this doesn't spur the Minister into taking greater action in this war then I fear for our future. Poor Susan will need to be informed, unless she already knows," He looked down at the paper. "Her parents, grandparents, aunt, her younger siblings, all dead. This will break the poor girl for sure..." He shook his head sadly. "Will you talk to her, Remus?"

Lupin nodded gravely. "Yes, Professor."

 **XXXX**

 **A/N: There it is. Alright, so first thing's first: THANK YOU to all who reviewed, followed and favourited this story. Thank you thank you thank you.**

 **As always, feel free to leave your thoughts, as I'm always open to hear them.**

 **REVIEW PLEASE!**

 **Also, if you see any typos or mistakes, please point them out so that I can correct them. I don't use a Beta - never have - so sometimes things slip through my net.**

 **-Atrocity.**

 **PS: I have decided to do away with the poll for now. I want more completed stories on my profile so I'm going to be splitting this story up a bit. This is Part One: Black Beginnings; Part Two: Deathsworn; Part Three: Son of the Dragon. I have a list of other stories on my profile now that I will put up in a poll later but for now they're just there as a motivator for me.**


	11. Down in the Dark

**XI. Down in the Dark**

Harry and Lupin left the office as Dumbledore flooed away to the Ministry.

"It is a terrible thing, Harry," Lupin said as they exited passed the gargoyle. "For a while, we thought he was slowing down, losing his momentum, but the Longbottoms, and now the Bones...Dark times are coming again, Harry. Dark times..."

Harry could not find any words to say to this as they both entered the Great Hall where lunch was taking place. Harry paused inside the doors as Lupin made his way over to the Hufflepuff table where a red-haired girl was sitting with her friend. He saw Lupin kneel down next to her and say something. She shook her head and her friends all nodded. A moment later, the girl was sobbing uncontrollably and her friends were trying in vain to console her. Lupin looked pained and patted the girl comfortingly on the arm before said girl flung herself against him and began crying into his shoulder. Lupin was uncomfortable but did his best to console the girl.

Harry, for his part, turned and walked back out of the Hall, heading outside. It wasn't seeing the girl fall apart like that that was bothering him. No, it was that he was bothered by seeing her fall apart that was bothering him. He was not used to caring about the victims or their families. After all, he had tortured Neville's family right in front of him and felt nothing for the boy.

He was becoming soft here, surrounded by the followers of the light by love and friendship and so much _light_. It was blinding. He glared up at the sun, silently cursing it. He was marching into the Dark Forest when he heard someone call out his name. "HARRY!"

He stopped just under the treeline and turned back to face them. Hermione was running toward him with Luna, Jimmy and Ron Weasley in tow, Luna skipping rather than running. Harry practically groaned.

"Harry, what are you doing?" Hermione asked as she grew level with him. "You know the Dark Forest is forbidden."

Harry shrugged.

Hermione noticed the dark look on his face and grew concerned. "Harry, what's wrong?"

Harry noted the genuine concern in her voice and felt a pang in his heart. This was what he was talking about. The care and concern and love and _light_ was killing him. He need to be back in his element. "Nothing," he said, a bit too quickly. Taking a breath he repeated, "Nothing, Hermione. Just have a lot on my mind, is all."

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked.

"Let the man be, Hermione," Ron butted in, much to Harry's relief and annoyance. Harry didn't care much for the youngest male Weasley, but he kept that quiet so as not to ostracize Hermione, whom he genuinely enjoyed the company of, much to his own surprise.

Jimmy walked over to Harry and frowned. "We saw you leave out of the Great Hall when Susan started crying, Does it have anything to do with that?"

Harry tried to muster a reassuring smile for his younger brother, but it came up as more of a grimace. "Maybe a little bit."

"What happened?" Ron asked, ignoring the sharp look Hermione shot him. "Professor Lupin showed her a copy of the Prophet, what happened?"

Harry looked down at Jimmy again, preferring that he not hear this. "Jimmy, why don't you run down to Hagrid's and have him put the kettle on?"

Jimmy shook his head. "I wanna know! I'm not a kid, Harry!"

Harry wanted to argue that yes he was a kid, and his little brother to boot, but gave up seeing the determined and defiant look in his eyes. He knew that look all too well, as he had seen it in the mirror many times.

"There was an attack," he finally admitted to the small group. "The Bones family were all killed this morning by a Death Eater. Dumbledore has gone to the Ministry to try and help with the backlash."

Hermione's hands came up to her mouth in horror. "That horrible."

Luna was no longer wearing her usual smile and Ron was looking a bit glum. Jimmy was wide-eyed and looking scared.

"Madam Bones is – was – the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," Hermione said. "If they can get to her, with all the skill and training she has – had – and all the protections she was sure to have...no one is safe..." Her voice was little more than a whisper. Luna walked over and placed a hand on the older girl's shoulder in comfort, whispering something in her ear.

Harry frowned at her seeming over-reaction. Ron spoke up, putting an affectionate hand on Hermione's arm. "Her parents are Muggles, remember? She's always worried that they'll be targeted for it."

Harry nodded, for some reason not liking the way Ron was touching Hermione; nor did he like the way he caught the redhead looking at her when he thought no one was looking.

To tell the truth, he was conflicted. He despised Muggles, and Muggleborns, but Hermione had proven herself far beyond all the Purebloods her age, save for Harry himself, and Harry was reminded that Voldemort himself had a Muggle father; this reinforced the rarely acknowledged exception where one of less than pure blood could rise above that stigma and be looked at as an equal, or even a superior. He would not admit it yet but he had a growing respect and admiration for the girl. This reminder of her Muggle parents only added to his desire to be away from all of this light. He needed to center himself, and for that he needed the darkness.

"Look guys, I've got some business in the forest, so if you don't mind, I've got to get to it." He turned to head into the trees.

"But it's forbidden, Harry!" Hermione cried out.

"For _you_ ," Harry said, turning back again. "I'm not a student, Hermione. And I need to gather some things for lessons." Strictly speaking, he wasn't supposed to go into the forest either, not without a reason anyway. But they didn't know that.

"Just be careful then," Hermione pleaded. "Please."

Harry smiled a bit. "I will." With that, he turned and disappeared into the forest.

He walked for several long minutes, the deeper he went, the darker it became and the more he felt himself relaxing. Shadows danced about him, and the path was eventually lost as he delved deeper and deeper into the Dark Forest. It's name properly earned, he came to find, soon the canopy became so thick that he could no longer see the sky at all. It was as if night had already fallen, but a quick glance at his watch showed him that it was still early in the afternoon. He idly wondered how far he had gone.

It was about a mile further that he found something that made him smile with relief.

It was a cave, descending down into the earth at a steep angle, the entrance almost hidden completely by brush and low-hanging tree branches. He walked up and peered down into the darkness. It wasn't really a cave in the traditional sense, more of a hole leading down into an underground cavern of some sort.

Casting a spell to slow his fall, he dropped down into the darkness below. He landed easily and turned in a full circle, then glanced up at the hole he had just come through. But for a faint shift in color, the hole was invisible to the eye. As was anything that may be down there with him. He kept his senses open for any sound of movement, but heard nothing for several long minutes. Content that he was alone, he sank down into a sitting position and closed his eyes.

How long he sat there in his trance, he had no idea as time seemed to fall away completely when he did this. But what tore him out of it later was a sound like shuffling feet or something dragging along the ground.

Harry opened his eyes and drew his wand, summoning a series of bluebell flames – a trick he had learned from Hermione, who considered it a bit of a specialty of hers – that circled around the top of the cave, illuminating it in flickering blue light; this created many dancing shadows and revealed what Harry thought must be underground tunnels leading who knows where. He could hear the sound more clearly now, and it was coming from a small alcove cut into the cave wall. He could see something shifting about there.

He stood and directed one of his flames to float nearer to the alcove and whatever was hiding in it. What it revealed was not something he had been expecting to see there, nor anywhere for that matter. For crouching there in the dark was himself, only not himself. It was him in every way shape and form, but there was something decidedly off about this other him, this _doppelganger_. He couldn't place what it was but he knew he didn't like it.

He shifted uncertainly as the second Harry lifted its head and look at him with piercing emerald eyes that practically glowed in the darkness. But it was in those eyes that he found what was wrong. The eyes were empty and void of any sense of feeling. Blank, dead eyes.

The doppelganger stood to its full height and sneered at him in a menacing manner. It had no wand, nor any other weapon of any sort, and yet it stalked forward in a predatory fashion, teeth bared and fingers curled into claw-like forms. Harry took a step back, icy dread filling him.

Suddenly the doppelganger lunged at him and Harry instinctively fired off the Killing Curse at it. The curse struck the other Harry dead in the chest and the thing collapsed, laying face-down on the ground, unmoving.

Harry sighed with relief and ran a hand through his hair. Then he began to laugh. It started as a chuckled, then grew into a full belly laugh, then morphed into something half-mad. He laughed for a solid thirty seconds before a growl reached his ears.

He stopped and looked down at the corpse with wide, disbelieving eyes. The corpse was _moving_! It groaned and growled as it climbed back to its feet, stretching and cracking its neck, all the while glaring at the real Harry.

Harry readied his wand, not believing what he was seeing. What the hell was this thing?

This time, when it attacked, it went low and Harry's second curse sailed harmlessly over its head. It tackled Harry at the waist, dragging him to the ground, then began to claw at him in a very animalistic manner. Harry raised his arms to protect his face and neck, but the thing simply switched to attacking his exposed torso instead. Harry curse and tried to roll away from it. But he was stopped by a heavy blow to his back as he turned. He twisted, aiming his wand at the thing, only for it to knock it away, sending it clattering the floor several feet away.

In a desperate move, Harry kicked the doppelganger in the face, knocking it back. He then started crawling toward his wand. It was within grasp when he felt the doppelganger grab him by the ankle and drag him back to it.

Harry kicked again, and again, until it released its grip. Harry then scrambled back toward his wand. He had it in his hand when the thing jumped on his back and reached up, grasping the hand that was holding his wand, preventing him from cursing it again.

They struggled and fought and kicked and punched and threw elbows, neither willing to give in. Finally, Harry managed to flip the doppelganger over onto its back and jammed his wand into its neck. He opened his mouth to utter the Killing Curse again but the thing's hand shot up and grabbed his throat, choking him.

Harry tried to pry the fingers away but the grip was like iron. He felt himself getting lightheaded and his vision was starting to blur. Growling, he jammed the wand back into the thing's neck and silently screamed the Killing Curse. Much to his relief, the green light erupted from his wand and the thing fell limp again.

Harry clambered away from it and leaned against the wall, gasping for breath. He kept shooting glances at the thing, waiting for it to get back up again. And it did. Rising slowly, much slower than last time. Harry fired another Killing Curse at it, and it collapsed again, only to rise once more a moment later. He did thing three more times before cursing under his breath and looking for the exit from the cave. He found it with one of his floating flames and began to climb up to the hole. He could hear the thing getting up again and going after him. He had his hands on the lip of the hole when the thing tried to grab him by the ankle again, Harry kicked down at it, striking it three times in the face with the heel of his boot, sending it sprawling back down into the cave.

Harry climbed out and turned back, looking down at the thing as it glared up at him with eyes filled with rage and malice, a startling contrast the empty dead eyes it had sported before. Harry nearly jumped when it suddenly roared at him; he would have said it was a scream, but the sound was far too primal and wild. Once this was done, it slowly slunk back into the shadows, losing form as it went and Harry swore he saw a wraith-like thing fly back toward where he knew the little alcove to be. He stood there panting for several minutes, the image of those hate-filled eyes burned into his memory.

What was that thing? He was too shaken to think properly so he began stumbling back in what he hoped was the direction of the castle.

He kept his bluebell flames floating around him as he walked, just in case. It would not do to be set upon in the dark after an experience like that.

After a few minutes he was able to thing clearly and after extensive thought he decided that the thing he had encountered must have been a boggart of some sort; an especially powerful and aggressive boggart which, while not unheard of, was highly uncommon. He wondered how long it had been down there and found it interesting in its locational placement. Boggarts and other such creatures traveled on ley lines, which only ran in a straight line from one place to another, typically from places with strong concentrations of natural magical energy. They could prosper anywhere along the ley line, but where at their strongest at the actual connection point. He shuddered to think of what may have happened had he encountered this particular boggart in Hogwarts, which was centered right on top of a point where two ley lines crossed.

He trudged into a clearing and paused to take a moment. He could see the sky now, so his flames were of little use to him at this point. He was about to wave his hand to dismiss them when he heard something moving on the other side of the clearing. He cursed quietly; how much more was he going to have to put up with before he got back to the castle? It was the sound of heavy footfalls that had him curious, but on guard.

The rustling got louder until finally the culprit was revealed. It was a small, dwarf-like creature, looking very much like an angry old man with a long while beard and a blood-red cap on his head. In one hand it carried an ugly but deadly looking pike and its feet were clad in heavy iron boots. Its eyes were tiny and an angry red in color. Its hands had long, sharp claw-like nails that looked just as deadly as its pike.

Harry almost sighed with relief. It was just a Red Cap. This he could handle with no problem, and it was lucky that he had found one. He did find it odd that this one seemed to be better armed than the ones that usually roamed the Forbidden Forest – which usually carried a heavy club of wood or more rarely a troll bone – but he dismissed the thought, determining that this one must have traveled here from somewhere else; possibly an old battlefield or castle ruin. Though he did note that its cap was shining, as though it had died it again just moments before.

He fired a bluebell flame at it, putting it close to its eyes to temporarily blind it, then fired an over-powered stunner at it, dropping it to the ground before it had a chance to notice him.

He walked over to it and quickly bound it tight, then hauled it over his shoulder and continued his trek back to the castle.

 **XXXX**

Harry entered the Defense Against the Dark Arts office and dropped the Red Cap unceremoniously onto the floor where it groan pitifully. Remus looked on bemused. He raised a brow questioningly at Harry, who shrugged. "The little bastard had it coming."

And it did. As he had exited the forest, the evil little garden gnome had woken up and bit him on the shoulder. Harry had flung the Red Cap down on the ground and kicked it, in full view of some first years, who were looking on with wide eyes. He waved to them and they had waved tentatively back. The Red Cap growled and thrashed about in his binds, looking at the children with hunger in its eyes, and Harry had given him another solid kick before stunning him again. Then as if to make matters worse, Rune the raven had come flying down to land next the Red Cap and started pecking at its head, hopping around in an excited manner, cawing at the unconscious beast, taunting it. Harry, while amused, had to send Rune off before he ended up pecking out an eye or something. The last thing he needed was for it to bleed out on him.

And now here he was.

"I'm not sure I want to know," Lupin said, looking down at the Red Cap, who had landed face-first on the cold stone floor. He got up from his chair and helped Harry haul the little bastard into a sturdy metal cage, taking its weapon away from him before they closed and locked the cage. "This little guy will certainly come in handy for lessons soon enough."

Harry nodded. "That's what I thought as well."

"Tell me though, Harry, where did you find him?" Lupin asked, sitting back down behind his desk.

Harry pulled up the other chair in the room. "In the forest."

Lupin was eying the pike which he had taken from the Red Cap. He looked up at Harry's answer. "Really?" He looked back at the pike. "Very odd. Exceptionally well-armed for a Red Cap in these parts. I must say that I'm glad you caught him. Last thing we need is him wandering too close to the grounds and snatching a student." He looked at the still-unconscious creature, noting the cap. "It looks like he's killed recently anyway. Animal of some sort probably. And what were you doing in the Forest?"

Harry ran a hand through his hair, ignoring the question. "There was something else too," he said hesitantly, reliving the encounter in his head, feeling that icy weight in his chest again.

"Oh?" Lupin sat the pike down and leaned forward in interest. "And what was that?"

So Harry told him about the cave, and the boggart within. How he hadn't noticed it at first, and how it had taken his own visage and used it against him. Of course, he omitted his own use of the Killing Curse, for obvious reasons.

"It was me, and yet not. I don't know how to describe it, but I know that there was nothing human left in that version of me." He shuddered. "I know boggarts are supposed to show us our greatest fear, but how can my greatest fear be myself?" He added this last bit quietly to himself, hoping Lupin wouldn't hear it.

Lupin had listened to the whole tale, the fight, the escape, everything without a single interruption. Now, he looked thoughtful. "It is a most intriguing encounter, to say the least. Now, I don't think it was necessarily saying that you are afraid of yourself." Harry groaned internally. He had forgotten that werewolves had exceptional hearing. "Not exactly anyway. More I think that you fear a part of yourself; a part that you see as not being the true you. Or, perhaps you fear what you could become. You've faced much darkness in your short life, Harry, even if it doesn't seem like it. I think you fear that darkness corrupting you somehow. You fear losing your humanity."

Harry thought about this. It sounded like a reasonable explanation, and yet not enough of one. Perhaps some elements of it were correct, but there was much more to it than that. Or it may be simpler even than that. Who was to say.

 **"** You never answered my question," Lupin interrupted his thoughts.

Harry looked at him oddly. "What question?"

Lupin gave him a chastising frown. "You know what question. Why were you in the Forest in the first place?"

Harry waved his hand at the Red Cap. "We needed one." He hoped Lupin bought this.

No such luck though. "Yes, but not for a few more weeks at least. It could have waited."

Harry sighed. He was going to have to go with honesty. "I needed to get away for a bit. In New Zealand, there was plenty of open wilderness for me to go out and explore if I got bored or needed to think, and I grew very comfortable with nature. I needed to be away from people for a while and the Forest seemed like the best place to do that."

Lupin's face grew sympathetic. "I can understand needing time to one's self. If I may make a couple of suggestions. If you must go into the forest, there is a clearing not too far in, just passed Hagrid's hut, I think you'll find it a nice place to visit. But I would also recommend the Shrieking Shack on the outskirts of Hogsmead. No one ever goes there."

Harry snorted. "Of course they don't. They think its haunted."

Lupin smiled. "Yes. I may have had a hand in increasing that legend. I usually go there during the full moons and take my potion. The shrieking it is known for are my screams and howls as I transform. The process is quite painful. I must, of course, ask that you not reveal this bit of information to anyone."

Harry raised a hand as if swearing an oath. "No worries there." Lupin smiled his thanks and Harry stood up, groaning as he did. He was tired after all that had happened today. "Well, I'm going to go and find Hermione."

Lupin inclined his head. It was a day off and they had nothing pressing to get ready as it was the last day of classes for the week – or at least would have been normally – so he was content to let Harry go and enjoy himself. He never said as much aloud, but in the depth of his mind he was a tad guilty that he got to see so much of the boy while his parents and godfather had only had the one occasion. Of course he kept them all updated on what was going on at the school and how both of their boys were doing. Harry on the other hand wasn't the type for letter-writing and would often just have Remus pass along his words for him.

"Well, please be sure to give Miss Granger my regards would you?"

Harry waved a hand to let him know he had heard as he went out the door.

 **XXXX**

Harry found Hermione sitting in the library. This didn't surprise him at all, this actually having been the first place looked. He lowered himself into the chair next to hers with a small groan. The pain from his struggle with the boggart, along with carrying a full-grown Red Cap all the way back to the castle and up several flights of stairs was just now setting in and he felt more than a little stiff.

Hermione of course noticed this straight away and closed her book without bothering to mark her page. "Are you all right?"

Harry nodded heavily. "Who? Me? Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. And 'hello' to you too."

Hermione gave him a doubtful look. "Well," she said primly, "to be quite frank: you look like hell."

Harry swiveled his head to look at her. "Gee, thanks, Hermione," he said sarcastically. "How d'you think _you'd_ look after hauling a two-hundred pound Red Cap all the way up from the Forest?" Hermione raised a brow at this. "What? I told you I had business in the Forest. Did you think I was lying about that?" He pretended to be hurt. He hadn't really had business in there, but she didn't know that.

"Actually, yes. I do think you lied about that." she said, catching him off guard. OK, well maybe she did know.

Harry let his head fall against the back of his chair with a soft _thud_. "Miss Granger, you are far too perceptive for your own good." His tone was somewhere between annoyed and admiring.

Hermione looked triumphant. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

"Oh, not at all. In fact I admire it about you. It's just another way in which you are bloody brilliant."

He noticed how Hermione looked away, trying to hide the blush of her cheeks, but he could see it easily and it made him grin; he ignored her halfhearted admonishment for his 'language'. This happened any time he complimented her and Harry got some strange pleasure from it, not that he would ever admit that.

"So, what are you reading," he asked, pointing to her book.

Hermione looked thankful for the change in subject. "Oh, it's just History of Magic homework."

Harry reached over and took the book from her lap. He looked down at the title. " _The Black Arts on Trial_ , by Hannibal Traven" he read aloud. He flipped open and read the first few lines. "' _Necromancy, commonly called the Black Art, has a history that dates back before recorded time. Virtually all the earliest laws of the land make mention of it as expressly forbidden on pain of death._ '. _.._ Interesting subject matter." He handed the book back. "What are you currently studying in that class?"

Hermione tapped the cover. "Herpo the Foul. We briefly touched on the subject a few years ago but now Professor Binns wants us to study up on him. I've read several books already that mention him, but this is only one in which he features most prominently, after _Historia Artium Obscurorum_ , better known as _History of the Dark Arts,_ by Mopsus, and _Magick Moste Evile_ , by Godelot."

Harry nodded. It was a bit disturbing how often Herpo was popping up in his conversation of late, first with Horcruxes and now with Necromancy. Both of which were dark fields of magic that centered around the reversal of death. It made him think of his encounter with the boggart again. Did these things have anything to do with what he had seen?

Hermione must have seen the change in his demeanor because she reached over and placed her hand on his arm, making him jump at the unexpected contact. "Harry, are you sure that you're all right?"

Harry shook his head. "No, Hermione, I'm not." He held up a hand to stop her as she opened her mouth to speak. "I appreciate it, but I don't think I'm ready to talk about it yet." He had no problem in recounting the encounter, but he didn't want to talk about it again until he could figure out what it all meant. He hadn't meant to speak of all of that with Lupin, but Lupin was very perceptive and Harry should have known that he would read into it as well. He also knew that Hermione would do the same, and he wasn't sure he was ready to hear her own theories or have her unintentionally learn more about his true self than he wanted her to. He was afraid of that, for some reason.

Hermione nodded understandingly. "Well, when you are ready, I'll be here if you need someone to talk to."

Harry forced a smile. "Thank you, Hermione," he said seriously, using his eyes to tell her that he truly was grateful for her offer. It was nice to have someone here he could vent to or just talk to. The only person he had ever had that with was Barty, his best friend, and he was far away from him at the moment.

She smiled back, her cheeks glowing a rosy pink, but she managed to not turn away this time.

 **XXXX**

 **A/N: Another down. Points to all who caught the Elder Scrolls reference in this chapter. There were only references in here as well, but I won't point those out. If you see them, be sure to let me know.**

 **THANK YOU, to all who reviewed, or followed, or added this story to their favorites. YOU GUYS ARE AWESOME!**

 **And now for a QUESTION: Do you guys think I'm moving too fast with the Harry/Hermione aspects? Too slow? Just right? I can't really tell. I had intended to have them be a slow burn that started out with them as rivals but grow closer over time, but it isn't writing itself that way. The characters want to be together, despite my machinations. I don't think I could write a story with these two and not have them have a relationship. I don't know. REVIEW or PM me and let be know your thoughts.**

 **Until next time.**

 **-Atrocity.**


	12. Night of the Wolf

**XII. Night of the Wolf**

It was mid-November now, and the first snows were blowing in from the north, blanketing the grounds in a layer of pale white. All the students were joyous of this, as it meant many things. For the younger students, it was an excuse to throw snowballs at each other, build snowmen and drink hot chocolate. For the older students, these same things applied, but extended also to having more of an excuse to cuddle up close to someone special in front of a merrily crackling fire.

All in all, Harry hated it.

Well, not really. He didn't hate the snow or the way people acted because of it. It was more that he felt himself infected with the same ludicrous desire to frolic and seek warmth in another's flesh. It, quite frankly, scared the living hell out of him. It was on the cold nights when he was alone in his quarters sitting in front of the fire that he felt a loneliness seeping into his being. He had never experienced this before, always preferring to be alone. He didn't know what to make of it.

It wasn't like it was uncommon for one to seek companionship, even if only for base physical desires. Which was far less than what he found himself craving; Lucius had his wife, whom he coupled with quite regularly, and he had seen Pansy sneak into Draco's quarters more than once. On a few occasions, he had seen Bellatrix exiting the Dark Lord's chambers looking like she had just be shagged quite thoroughly. No, it was not uncommon at all. But it was not something he ever really considered for himself. It was to the point that he had begun to believe that he was asexual. Now, he knew that that was not the case.

The biggest eye-opening moment had come one evening when he had dozed off in front of the fire in his private quarters. He hadn't realized that he had fallen asleep, believing himself to still be awake, when his chamber door opened and Hermione walked in, a sort of playful smile on her lips. She closed the door solidly and clicked the locks into place, then stalked toward him like a tiger approaches its cornered prey. He noted that she was wearing a periwinkle blue nightgown that was sheer in places, but solid in all the places that mattered, leaving just enough to the imagination to drive him insane.

She had climbed lithely atop him, settling herself so that she was straddling him in his chair. She leaned down, her chestnut curls falling softly around both of their faces, a scent of honey and vanilla lingering faintly around them.

No words were exchanged as they came together, lips gently caressing each other, hands slowly wandering. A gasp, a stifled moan. It was as his fingers were creeping closer and closer to that certain place that Harry awoke with a jolt, his breathing heavy and his heart-rate jacked.

And that wasn't the only dream of that nature he had had. The settings varied, but the only constant was himself and Hermione. No others.

It was because of one such dream that he was currently staring deep into the dancing flames of the fireplace in his private chambers. In days long gone, the ancients believed fire to be sacred. The sages, the druids, the shamans, the priests, they all believed that the fire was a gift from the divines, and many held that if one looked long and closely enough, they could see their futures in the flames. Now, Harry didn't know if he believed all that, but he was inclined to believe that fire had a magic all unto itself that mere mortals could never understand. It was wild, pure and untameable. It could light the way in the darkness, give you warmth and comfort, or it could consume and destroy, as was its wont. It was a force unto itself. Uncontrollable.

He stared into the flames as he pondered this. Every so often he swore he could see figures and shapes in the flames, but dismissed it as his eyes playing tricks on him, perhaps from a lack of sleep. If that was the case, the next day, or rest of that day – his pocket watch read just past three in the morning – was going to be a long day indeed.

Today he would be teaching the class alone, due to it being a full moon. Lupin would be too in pain and his temper would be on a hare trigger for the whole of the day and then as evening came he would retire to the Shrieking Shack with his Wolfsbane Potion for a long and agonizing night. Harry was glad that it was a Friday as this would mean he only had to teach for one day alone and Lupin would recover over the weekend and be mostly alright by Monday.

With a sigh he stood and walked over to his bookshelf and scanned the titles. If he was going to be awake for the rest of the night he may as well find some way to occupy his time other than staring into the fire uselessly.

He plucked an old, worn copy of _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ , written entirely in Anglo-Saxon Runes, from the shelf and settled himself back down to read. He could remember Voldemort reading these to him when he was still but a child; one of the few truly fatherly things he had ever done for Harry. He had had a particular interest in the Tale of the Three Brothers, and Harry had to confess that he was rather fond of it himself; perhaps because of the frequency that the Dark Lord had read it to him.

Feeling nostalgic, he flipped the book open to this Tale and began to read. While he could read runes just fine, it was a bit slower going than it would have been had it been in common English, as he had to also translate the Runes into the Old English of the Anglo-Saxons into the modern tongue as he went. This didn't bother him in the slightest, as he considered it a rather enjoyable exercise of the mind.

When he was finished with this tale, he closed the book and returned it to the shelf, back in the exact same place it was before and looked at his pocket watch again. It was half past four now. He browsed the various tomes as he pondered the Tale of the Three Brothers. Suppose the three items in the story were real, as he recalled Voldemort believed – calling them the Deathly Hallows – what would he do if he were to ever find himself in the possession of one, or all, of them? He felt it a wasted life to live invisibly, always hiding from Death until he had grown world-weary and tired and wanted nothing more than the restful sleep of death. He also considered it folly to place one's faith solely in a wand. He didn't need some mythical Death Stick to make him powerful, he could do that on his own, with his own strength. And Necromancy was a field of magic that had never really been successful, and to torture one's self with the mere shade of a lost loved one was a quick path to insanity and madness, not to mention so much pain. And all at once? Why, that was just asking for trouble. No, he decided, he did not care to have any such items for himself.

He settled back down in front of the fire with a copy of Aeschylus' Tragedies and read contently, starting with _The Persians._ He checked his watch every so often and at about seven, he closed his book and returned it to the shelf. He then dressed in his usual white button down and black waistcoat combo with black pants and a long coat.

Ready for the day, he left his quarters and made his way to the Great Hall, finding only Professors McGonagall and Flitwick at the staff table. There were no students present as of yet.

He bid the two good morning and took a seat in Lupin's usual place, as he always did when he covered for the man, and a cup of tea appeared in front of him, along with cream and honey. He prepared his tea, listening in to Flitwick and McGonagall's conversation.

"...It is getting out of hand, Minerva. The boy looks ready to keel over at any moment," Flitwick was saying.

Minerva nodded in agreement. "I have noticed it too, and have made mention of it to Severus, but he dismisses it."

"I shall have a word with him this morning. Something must be done. The last thing we need is the son of one of our Governors dieing on us." Filius looked highly concerned indeed.

Minerva gave a tight-lipped smile. "I doubt it will do much good. And I've tried to get the boy to go Poppy, but he refuses."

Harry thought he knew who they were speaking of. "You are referring to Draco Malfoy, I take it?"

The two Professors looked over to him. "Yes," Minerva said. "Surely you too have noticed how much he has deteriorated this year. He was just fine at the beginning of the year, but now, he looks like a walking corpse; all pale and gaunt."

Harry nodded, taking a sip of his tea and put on a concerned expression. "I have noticed. Perhaps I should speak with him. He may respond better to someone his own age."

"It couldn't hurt to give it a try," Minerva assented.

"I still intend to speak to Severus," Filius grumbled.

It was at this point that students began to trickle in from their dorms. He noted Hermione was one of the first to enter the Great Hall, Luna not too far behind. Harry immediately thought of the dreams he had been having and forced himself to look elsewhere, lest he give something away. Damn, she was waving at him. He waved back with a small smile.

Luckily, he was distracted the next moment by Minerva's voice. "Oh, the poor boy looks as bad a Remus does the day after."

Harry followed her gaze and saw Draco sitting down at the Slytherin table, dark circles around his eyes and his normally upright posture slumped. Harry frowned at the sight. He's have to speak to him. Maybe he could get him to let slip some of what he was up too. With him as weakened and tired as he was, he would be more likely to speak without proper thought; something Harry could use to his advantage.

A few minutes later, food appeared on all the tables and Harry ate a hearty breakfast. He needed the energy to get him through the day.

While he ate, he heard Severus, who had arrived only a couple of moments before, inform Minerva that he had given one of her lions a detention. When Minerva asked which it was, Harry was not surprised to hear that it was Jimmy, his little brother. When asking what punishment she would give the boy, for apparently making another students cauldron explode in potions yesterday afternoon, Minerva told him that she could send him to Hagrid, who was going to be traveling a short ways into the Forest to meet with the Centaurs, who preferred to meet at night so that the stars could be clearly seen and aid them in making decisions. Apparently Hagrid had noticed an increase in dangerous creatures of late and wished to gain some insight from the Centaurs. Snape seemed to find this acceptable and agreed. They informed Hagrid of this when he came in to the castle for breakfast.

Harry, knowing the sort of creatures that could be found in the forest, especially at night, silently determined to go along and keep an eye on his little brother. And after his encounter on Hallowe'en, he knew that there was more than just the common beasts of the Forest in those woods.

As breakfast ended, Harry caught up to Hagrid and informed him of his intentions.

"Tha's awful good o' ya, Harry," Hagrid said. "It'll be nice ter have an extra set o' eyes out there tonigh."

Harry agreed. He wasn't sure why, but he had a bad feeling about this whole venture.

Shaking that thought off, he hurried to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, beating his students there with some clever use of secret passageways Remus had shown him. He went up into the office, which was located at the back of the classroom at the top of a small staircase. He entered and closed the door.

He opened one of the drawers of the desk and pulled out Lupin's lesson planner, looking it over to see what he had on the syllabus for the day.

First class of the day was Slytherins and Gryffindor sixth years, followed immediately by the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff sixth years, starting training in nonverbal spell-casting. Simple enough. Then the thirds years, with lunch between the two groups, learning about Red Caps. Easy. Then the fifth years, working on the Stunning Spell and Disarming Charm. Well, that one he could do in his sleep. All in all, not so bad.

A small bell-like sound told him that his students had started arriving. He did a quick bit of thinking and dipped a quill in some ink, writing the words _nonverbal shields_ in a small box labeled 'notes' next to the time-slot for first and second periods. That done, he closed the planner and walked out into the classroom to begin the day.

"Good morning, class," he greeted, trotting down the stairs. He cast his gaze over the room, making note of a couple of empty seats. He decided that he would give them fifteen more minutes before marking them as absent. There was a mumbled greeting from the students, and a few surprised looks at the revelation that he was teaching today. Most hadn't bothered to look at the staff table that morning. "Today, we are going to be starting on nonverbal spellcasting."

There was a murmur of excitement at this.

"Now, nonverbal spellwork can be tricky, as you have to not only think the incantation, but you also have to _visualize_ the desired outcome. In a duel, this process must be reflex, instinct. Witches and wizards who are more experienced can do this without really even having to think about it, not even having to bother with the incantation at all, merely a thought of what they wish to happen. Any questions so far?"

He looked back and forth at the two Houses, who had arranged themselves with Gryffindors on one side of the classroom and Slytherins on the other. No one said anything and no hands were raised. He nodded.

"Alright then. Everyone please stand."

The students stood up from their desks and Harry waved his hand, sending the desks all to one side of the room, leaving a large open area for them to work.

"Pair up," he told them. Once this was done, he set them all in two rows, facing each other. "We'll start with the shield charm _Protego_ , today. You will each take turns attempting to cask a nonverbal shield while your partners fires a Disarming Charm at you. Now, first I will demonstrate for you. Creevey, front and center, please."

A mousy Gryffindor boy stepped out of the line and stood opposite Harry, looking a bit nervous.

"Mr. Creevey, I want you to try and disarm me. Wand out!" Harry told him, drawing his own wand. "On the count of three. One...two...three!"

Colin shouted " _Expelliarmus!_ "

Harry, without missing a beat waved his wand, batting the charm away with his shield. His lips stayed pressed firmly closed.

The other students clapped politely.

"There. Now, it's your turn. Back in line Mr. Creevey. First row," he pointed to the row of students standing with their backs to the wall, "will attempt their shields first. Then the second row will take their turn. You will do this until the end of the period. I will be watching and giving tips as I see fit. Always count to three before casting your Disarming Charms. Now, begin."

He paced back and forth behind the rows, watching them as they made attempt after attempt. His first bit of advise was to stop trying to do as he had done and bat the charm away. "Keep your wand up, there's no need for such theatrics this early in your training."

The next was to stop silently mouthing the incantation. "That's not nonverbal! Think only! Miss Weasley, what did I just say?"

It went on in much the same manner for the rest of the class. He was happy to report that the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs did much better. Well, the Ravenclaws did anyway.

When it was time for the third years, he brought the cage with the Red Cap he had captured down into the classroom and levitated it up onto the desk.

"Can anyone tell me what a Red Cap is?" he asked. Jimmy raised his hand. "Yes, Mr. Potter?"

"That thing in the cage," Jimmy said matter-of-factually. There were scattered laughs around the room.

Harry did not laugh. "Well spotted, Mr. Potter. I was, however, hoping for something a bit more in-depth. Anyone else?" No one raised their hands. Harry hummed, disappointed. "A Red Cap – also called a _powrie_ or a _dunter_ – is a malevolent beast, closely related to Dwarves and distantly to Goblins and Elves. However, unlike their more docile cousins, the Red Cap is a murderous creature with an affinity for killing. You see, it is in their nature to kill. It is _crucial_ to their very existence." He gestured to the creature in the cage, who was looking out at the students with a bloodthirsty glare in its eyes. "Note the eponymous red cap he wears. This is the life-sourse of the Red Cap. Its literal lifeblood. A Red Cap must kill regularly and stain its cap with the blood of its victim in order to survive. If the blood dries up, it dies." He pulled a live rat from a nearby cage and tossed it into the cage. The Red Cap pounced on the poor thing, ripping its head off with its teeth and squeezing it so that the blood spurted out onto its cap. It then proceeded to eat the rest of the rat. Harry noted many horrified expressions around the room with satisfaction. "Animal blood will sustain a Red Cap for a day or so, but human blood has a much longer staying period of about a week or so."

He walked out among the desks, continuing his lecture as he went.

"Red Caps frequently inhabit old ruins and battlefields. But they are also known to inhabit many forests, usually dwelling underground. Now, who can tell me what the best course of action would be if one encountered a Red Cap?"

A Slytherin girl raised her hand. "Yes, Miss Morrison?"

"Run?" the girl guessed.

Harry smiled, walking up to her desk. "My dear, if you try to run from a Red Cap, you will die." Her face went pale and he turned to the rest of the class. "Red Caps are notoriously fast runners, despite their small stature and the heavy iron boots they wear. It is commonly believed that it is _impossible_ to outrun a Red Cap, and I would be inclined to agree with this assessment as there is no recorded instance of anyone being able to do so. Anyone else?" A Gryffindor boy raised his hand. "Mr. Creevey?" Harry said, addressing Dennis, Colin's younger brother.

"Play dead?"

Harry shook his head in disbelief. "If you play dead, it will just make its job easier. Basically a free meal. Such tactics may work with some common animals and possibly werewolves, but a Red Cap will just cut you open and _bathe in your blood_." He made sure to make the last words particularly cold, so they would get the point of how dangerous these things really were. "Anyone else?"

Jimmy raised his hand, hoping to redeem himself. "Fight it?"

Harry indulged him. "And, tell me, how would you fight a Red Cap? What spells would you use?"

Jimmy thought about it. "Um, _Petrificus Totalus_?"

Harry smiled. "Good choice. Five points to Gryffindor." Jimmy grinned. "Yes, at your skill-level, a body bind would be the way to go. A powerful stunner would to the trick as well, but that is beyond your level at the moment. A particularly over-powered stunner and _Incarcerous_ are how I brought this one down." He tapped the cage with his fingers, making the Red Cap lunge at him. Harry paid it no mind. "There is another way to get rid of a Red Cap, though it is much more dangerous than just binding it. If you happen to have a Beautification Potion on you, you can splash the Red Cap with it. Its own beauty will repulse it and it will flee. But, how often does one go about with a bottle of this potion on their person at all times? I'll give you a hint: _never_.

 **XXXX**

Lunch was a dull affair in Harry's case, or at least it was until he noticed Draco leave again in the middle of the meal, leaving his plate of food barely touched. He took a couple more bites of his own food before getting up and walking over to the Slytherin table. He stopped next to the empty seat where Malfoy had been sitting, looking at the food which was completely uneaten. He looked at Crabbe, Goyle, Blaise and Pansy, who all looked up at him, Pansy looking worried.

"Where's he gone?" Harry asked not bothering to be polite about it.

Pansy looked frustrated to the point of tears. "You know where he's gone. Back to _that room_."

"What is this room?"

Pansy shook her head to say that she didn't know.

Harry looked at the boys. "Well? Anyone?" They all averted their eyes. "No? Fine." He was about to leave when he turned back to Pansy. "And because I said I would, you pass along a message for me. Tell Draco that whatever he is doing is taking a toll on his health and academic performance. The Professors are starting to become suspicious and concerned. Perhaps he should _take a break_. Now, I know he won't listen to that. But you tell him anyway. And do whatever you have to do make sure the point gets across."

He left the Hall after getting a brief nod from Pansy. He went back to the Defense office and sat down behind the desk. He had another class of third years next and then the fifth years after that. Then dinner, then he was off to Hagrid's to accompany him into the forest.

His thoughts were more occupied with whatever Draco was doing. He knew that whatever it was, it was not going to be in Harry's benefit. Despite the Dark Lord's assertion that they work together, Harry didn't want or need them, and Draco would never help Harry, even if Harry were to ask for it. Whatever it may be, Draco was not alone in his endeavor. Lucius, Narcissa, Bellatrix, Fenrir; they were all involved in some way. And who knew how many more. What made Harry even more curious was that Draco was not involving Pansy, Crabbe, Goyle and Blaise in his work. Those five had been inseparable for as long as Harry could remember. Particularly Draco and Pansy. He was certain that there was more between the two than either let on, but whether it was something real or just physical was anyone's guess.

He cursed. If only he could get into that room that he had seen Draco enter. But how did one get the door to appear? Was there a secret to it? Did it only appear for a short time at a certain time of day? He needed to find out what the Malfoy scion was up to. He needed eyes on the boy, but there was no one at Hogwarts he could trust. So, what could he do?

An idea entered his thoughts like a gentle breeze. Yes. That would work. That would work wonderfully.

"Dobby."

There was a small _pop_ and the little House Elf appeared, bowing so low that his nose was in danger of touching the floor. "Harry Potter sir has called for Dobby?"

Harry nodded seriously. "Yes, Dobby, I do. I have a mission for you. A very important job.

Dobby straightened up, puffing out his chest proudly. "Whatever Harry Potter sir be need, Dobby is doing it!" he declared, making Harry smile.

"Yes, I know. Thank you, Dobby. You are a very good Elf. Very helpful and brave. Now, what I need you to do is twofold. First, I need you to watch Draco Malfoy for me. Don't bother with any other tasks unless I call for you for something, just keep watch on him. Report his movements; where he goes; what he does; who he speaks to. Those sorts of things. Got that?"

Dobby nodded. "Yes, Harry Potter sir."

"Now, the second part is this: I have seen Draco enter a room on the seventh floor, left-hand corridor. The room is hidden, in that one can only find it under certain circumstances. I need you to find out more about this room if you can. Perhaps ask some of the Hogwarts House Elves about it if you get a free moment. When Draco is in class, you need not watch him as closely, so perhaps then you could investigate. Now, you got all of that?"

"Yes, sir! Follow the Malfoy, and find the hidden room!"

"That's right," Harry nodded. "Go on now. He may be there at this very moment. And, Dobby, this is of the utmost importance: trust no one but me; tell no one, _no one,_ of your actions except for me. It is to stay between us. I'm trusting you, Dobby. Don't fail me."

"Dobby will be most discreet! I will not fail you, Harry Potter sir!" With another _pop_ he was gone.

 **XXXX**

Harry walked across the darkened grounds. He could see the windows of Hagrid's hut illuminated in the distance, at the edge of the Forest. He was a bit early, as Jimmy wasn't set arrive for his detention for another hour and a half.

He looked up at the clear night sky, the full moon hung high and bright, its light making the stars a bit harder to see in contrast. Lupin would be in the Shrieking Shack right now, fully transformed and docile after taking his potion.

Harry imagined that if he listened closely that he could just hear the distant howl of the werewolf.

Shaking his head he kept going. His foot hit something solid, which skidded off the path with a thud. Harry frowned. It was probably a rock.

He arrived at Hagrid's hut and knocked solidly on the door three times.

There was a sudden loud barking from within from Hagrid's large boar-hound Fang, followed by "Get down, Fang! Quiet, ya dozy dog." The door opened and Hagrid's giant frame filled it almost entirely. "Ah, Harry. Wasn' expectin' you so soon. Come on in. I'll put on the kettle an' we'll have some tea. Have a seat wherever." Harry followed the gamekeeper inside, hearing him mutter "...think I 'ave some cakes 'round 'ere somewhere..."

Harry wasn't so sure he wanted to know. He had heard horror stories about Hagrid's cooking from Jimmy and Hermione both. "Just tea will be fine, Hagrid," Harry said, taking his coat off and hanging it on a hook by the door, then sat down at the kitchen table.

Either Hagrid hadn't heard him or had just ignored him, or maybe he was just too set on being a good host, but Harry soon had a plate of hard brown cakes sitting on a dish in front of him. He poked it experimentally with his finger, grimacing when he felt how hard it was. It was like a rock! Maybe that had been what he had kicked on his way down, he thought with an amused smile.

Ignoring the cake for the time being, he instead occupied himself by examining the contents of the hut while Hagrid busied himself with the tea.

The entire hut was a single room, but Hagrid made the most of it. On one end was a large bed with a patchwork quilt and big fluffy pillow. On the other end – where Harry was currently sat – was a dinning room/kitchen combo with a table with four chairs, a wood stove, several cabinets and drawers along one wall with a sink in the center of a cluttered counter top. In between the two sides was a sort of living area with a fireplace and a large overstuffed chair in which Fang was currently snoozing again, completely unfazed by Harry's presence. Hagrid was bent over at the fireplace filling a kettle with water and hanging it over the fire.

"I've been meaning to get down here and visit," Harry said. It wasn't exactly true, but he wanted to be polite. Hagrid was close to the Potters and Harry was now openly back in the family. Speaking of his return, Harry spotted a copy of the Daily Prophet sitting on the table and pulled it to him.

"Tha's alrigh', Harry. I know ya been busy up at the school an' all. Helping Lupin teach an' subbing for him, like today."

Harry wasn't really listening anymore as he was grimacing at the paper in his hand. There was a large moving picture of him standing in the Great Hall holding the Sorting Hat in his hand and looking down at it with narrowed eyes. Harry wasn't sure how they had gotten the picture but guessed that it could have been from a memory of a student. Or perhaps Creevey had managed to snap off a photo of him without him noticing. His lip curled distastefully as he looked at the article itself. The headline and article ran as thus:

 **THE BOY WHO LIVED:**

 **The Return of Harry Potter**

 **by Rita Skeeter**

 **For many years we have all laughed and scoffed at those fools who claimed that Harry James Potter (14), son of Auror James Charlus Potter and Lily Potter (née Evans), had survived the attack by You-Know-Who on Hallowe'en night in Godric's Hollow. Now, it seems as if those conspiracy nutters will be getting the last laugh.**

 **Harry James Potter lives!**

 **It was simply a normal evening at Hogwarts; the start-of-term feast, the Sorting Ceremony. But all would not stay normal at all as the Sorting List revealed an unexpected name. A name belonging to a boy who most believed dead since infancy. Harry Potter appeared seemingly out of nowhere at the Sorting Ceremony and has tipped the entirety of the Wizarding World upside down as a result. He was sorted into Ravenclaw House after what this reporter is told was an unusually long deliberation time of ten minutes. He then, the next day, achieved twelve O.W.L.'s (Ordinary Wizarding Levels) then passed his NEWT's in the same sitting before taking on an Apprenticeship to current Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor Remus J. Lupin.**

 **Potter was unavailable for comment on where he had been or how he survived, but Headmaster Albus Dumbledore has assured us that all is in order but would not go into detail. James and Lily were likewise unavailable for comment. This reporter wonders if perhaps there is some dark secret to Harry's disappearance and sudden return...**

Harry tossed the paper down on the table as Hagrid came over with the kettle and poured the boiling water into a large white and blue flower patterned teapot. There was more to the article, with a quote from one Xenophilius Lovegood, owner and editor-in-chief of the Quibbler, and a member of what Skeeter called a 'cult of twisted eccentrics' who supposedly saw Harry as some sort of avenging savior for all magical peoples. Xeno also happened to be Luna's father, and Luna had simply blinked at him with those large silvery eyes of hers and a small smile when he had asked her if any of that was remotely true. He wasn't sure what kind of answer that was, but it make him feel somewhat self-conscious.

Xeno had personally sent Harry a letter telling him how happy he was that Harry had returned and how proud he was of his dear Luna for befriending him. He also thanks Harry for helping his daughter with her bullying problem, which Luna had apparently told him about. Of course, Harry had taken some further measures after that first encounter with the bullies. He had cornered them in the Ravenclaw common room, which he still visited a couple times a week, and told them all under no uncertain circumstances that if he got wind of them so much as looking at Luna the wrong way he was going to make them regret it. He didn't make any overt threats or any such foolish actions. Merely planted the seed and cranked the intimidation up to max, then let their imaginations do the rest. Now, the fact that that seed was planted using Legilimency was really just semantics.

Hagrid and Harry conversed over tea, Harry pointedly ignoring the rock cakes the entire time, until a knock on the door signaled the arrival of Jimmy, who was accompanied by Minerva, his Head of House.

"Good evening, Hagrid," she said, entering the hut. She gave a look of surprise as she caught sight of Harry sitting there. "Oh, Mr. Potter, I did not expect to see you here."

"I volunteered to join Hagrid in the Forest tonight, Professor, on account of it being the full moon and all. I know Remus is off with his potion, and I don't know of any other werewolves in the area, but one can never be too safe."

Minerva nodded her head in acquiescence of this point. "Yes, one cannot be too careful. I suppose it is for the best, given that a student will be out there as well."

"My thoughts exactly," Harry said.

"Don' know of any werewolves 'round here. Not real one anyway," Hagrid said. "There's a pack of Dire Wolves in the Forest – children o' two werewolves who mated durin' a full moon in the a while back – but tha's 'bout it. No true werewolves."

"Dire Wolves?" Harry asked, curiously. He had never heard of such a beast.

"Yeah. Beautiful creatures they are. Big as a full grown bear an' fur as shiny as a galleon." Hagrid sighed wistfully at the thought. "Never had any trouble out o' 'em either. Don' get me wrong, they aren't docile or tame, but they are smart, Know that we aren' a threat so they don' bother us. Might even see 'em tonigh."

Harry frowned but Jimmy looked excited at the prospect that they might see a wolf the size of a bear while they were out tonight.

Within a few minutes, McGonagall had departed for the castle and Harry, Jimmy and Hagrid were outside the hut, Hagrid had a rather large fire burning outside between the hut and the Forest, claiming it was so they would have a visual beacon to follow. Harry glanced up to see that one could see the smoke rising high in the moonlight and had to admit that it was a good idea.

They entered the Forest with Hagrid leading the way – Fang trotting along at his side – and Harry bringing up the rear, keeping Jimmy safe between them.

They walked for several long minutes, the silence of the Forest more than a little unnerving and Hagrid kept his trusty crossbow held firmly in both hands, ready to raise and fire at a seconds notice. Harry himself had his wand out and ready, but kept pressed against his forearm so that it was unseen. Ahead of him, Jimmy was looking this way and that with wide eyes.

Given how clear a night it was and how bright the moon was in the sky they could see fairly well in the dark Forest and Harry, used to darkness for so long found himself comforted in the darkness as if it were a pleasant day.

After what must have been a half-hour of walking they entered a clearing. In the center of the clearing was a single standing stone, like the ones at Stonehenge but just the one, at its base was a second stone laying flat like a table or an alter. Harry wondered what this place was and what it had been used for and if its exact location was of any importance.

Hagrid stopped a handful of yards from the stones and waited, Harry on the other hand walked up to the stones and looked at them curiously, noting the various runes carved all over their surface. There were Elder Runes, Younger Runes, Anglo-Saxon Runes and even Rök Runes, which was a small variant of the Younger Futhark Runes found in Sweden. Each set of Runes appeared to have been carved at different times, by different hands. Though from what Harry could see in the dark they all repeated the same words, sort of in the same manner as the Rosetta Stone.

"Don' touch it, Harry," Hagrid said seriously. Harry raised a hand to let him know he had heard him.

He was drawn out of his observations by the sound of rustling from the far end of the clearing, so he backed a few steps away from the stone and tightened his hold on his wand.

A moment later several tall dark shapes materialized out of the darkness of the forest. The Centaurs had arrived.

They took them all in, glaring at Harry after noting how close he was to the stone. "Step away from the Runestone, human," one, a tall black-haired one with a short beard said, his voice low and threatening.

"Hello there, Bane!" Hagrid called. "Don' mind him. He didn' touch it."

Bane continued to glare at Harry but did not say more to him. Another centaur with long blonde hair and beard and a pale body stepped forward looking at the group with a vastly more friendly expression. "It would seem that we are not the only ones who feel the pull of the Stone."

Another with red hair and beard strode over to next to the stone. Placing a hand near it reverently but did not touch it. "This place is sacred to us," he said dolefully, his eyes running over the Runes. "A great even took place here so long ago. A terrible thing, a beautiful thing...so long ago..."

Harry frowned at his forlorn and distant tone but said nothing, rejoining Hagrid and Jimmy, the latter of whom was staring at the Centaurs with awe.

"Who are these humans, Hagrid?" Bane asked.

"Bane, Firenze, Ronan, Magorian," this last he addressed to a chestnut colored centaur Harry had not noticed before, "This is Harry and Jimmy Potter. They volunteered to accompany me tonight due to the circumstances." He gestured up to the full moon with one giant hand, the crossbow hanging harmlessly at his side in the other.

Firenze walked closer, studying Harry with keen eyes. "Harry Potter. We have heard this name before...whispered. The boy who died, and has returned again." He leaned in close and stared Harry in the face for a moment then pulled back. "Your eyes have the stink of destiny about them."

Bane scowled and hoofed the ground irritably. "Come away, Firenze," he barked.

Firenze trotted back to his herdsman and they all faced back toward Harry and the others.

Hagrid cleared his throat. "I've noticed a great increase in creatures in these parts o' late," he said, "You've seen it too I reckon?"

Bane nodded. "We have. Just the other day we hunted a nest of Vampires not too far from here."

"And before that was the Inferi," Magorian added.

Harry nodded. "I caught a Red Cap in here several weeks ago. Unusually big and well armed for these parts."

Ronan was still gazing at the Stone mournfully. "There has been a Stirring," he said quietly.

"A Stirrin'?" Hagrid asked, concerned.

Bane inclined his head gravely then looked up at the sky, Firenze and Magorian doing the same. "Mars is uncommonly bright tonight," he noted.

"Yes, it is," Firenze agreed.

"Mars is bright," Magorian echoed.

"...bright..." Ronan sadly said, still looking at the Stone.

Harry looked up as well to see what they were talking about. There, just passed the moon was a bright red dot in the darkness. It was difficult to see due to how bright the moon was but it was there and the mere fact that they could see it at all was a testament to how bright it truly was.

Bane looked at them grimly. "Dark times are coming, Hagrid. Dark times...

"Dark times..." Ronan echoed dolefully.

"War is on both horizons," Firenze stated. "We stand at the precipice; the calm before the storm; a lull in the maelstrom. The black days are returning. The dark creatures of this world can sense it. There has been a Stirring."

Harry shook his head. These Centaurs spoke in riddles and circles. He wondered if it was always like this.

Harry noted that Ronan did not echo any of this and was instead looking at the Stone with deep concern. "We must leave," he said just loud enough to be heard.

Bane looked over to him. "What is wrong?"

Ronan waved a hand over the Stone. "We must go. This is not a night to be out with so few numbers."

Bane trotted over to the red-haired centaur. "What have you seen?" he asked in a deadly serious voice.

Ronan finally turned his eyes from the stone to meet Bane's. "Something bad will happen this night if we stay." He gestured the Stone. "The shadows foretell it."

Just then a loud piercing howl split the night air. Harry tensed, pulling his wand to attention and Hagrid readied his crossbow. Fang whimpered. "Was that the Pack?" Firenze asked.

Bane shook his head. "No. It was not." He looked at Harry, Jimmy and Hagrid. "You must go. As must we. The Forest is not safe tonight."

With that the Centaurs all galloped out of the clearing, drawing their bows as they went.

Another howl resounded, much louder than before. "Hagrid, we need to get back to the castle, now!"

Hagrid grunted. "Righ, le's go!"

He started off back the way they had come, crossbow up and ready.

"Jimmy, stay between us," Harry told hims little brother who's awed look had turned into one of fear. "Go, stay close to Hagrid."

They moved at a quickened pace, almost jogging, but trying to stay quiet.

Every minute or so a howl would be heard, getting louder and louder until suddenly they stopped altogether. Harry did not take this as a good sign, and neither did Hagrid it seemed as he adjusted his grip on the crossbow and increased his pace.

Within a few moments, the forest began to open up a bit and Harry was sure that they were getting close to the edge. He was about to sigh in relief when there was a loud snarl and a large form launched out of the darkness, smashing hard into Harry. He unconsciously conjured a shield between them and the beast skidded and rolled over him.

Hagrid fired his crossbow at the beast, striking it in the shoulder, while Harry pulled himself back to his feet, wand pointed at it.

The werewolf crouched there, snarling at them, it's brown and grey fur just visible in the darkness. Hagrid rushed to fit another bolt into his crossbow as it studied them. Then suddenly its head snapped to the side and Harry followed its gaze.

Jimmy was making a dash for the grounds, probably hoping to get to Hagrid's hut.

Without thinking, Harry sprinted after him at the same moment that the wolf gave chase. Harry dove and tackled the younger boy to the ground just as the wolf pounced, sailing over them as it had aimed high. Jimmy gave a cry and Harry rolled over sending a silent blasting charm at the wolf, who yelped and jumped away as the ground at its feet exploded in a cloud of dust.

Jimmy took off running again and Harry scrambled after him. He grabbed a handful of Jimmy's robes and pulled the boy back, dragging him behind a tree. Jimmy was whimpering so Harry clamped a hand over his mouth, forcing him to breath through his nose and keep quiet. He could feel tears dripping onto his fingers.

Harry heard a snap as Hagrid fired off his crossbow again, followed a second later by a loud yelp.

"RUN!" Hagrid shouted, his heavy footfalls growing louder as he ran in their direction.

Harry let Jimmy go and pushed him ahead of him. The boy didn't need any more incentive and took off full pelt for the fire he could see in the distance beyond the trees.

They broke through the treeline at a full sprint, Hagrid and Fang tearing through a moment later into the open. Jimmy ran for the hut and the fire near it, Harry on his tail, slowing to keep himself between the wolf and the boy.

They reached the fire as the wolf came snarling out of the Forest, charging after them.

Harry pulled a long log out of the fire and turned back to the wolf, wand ready and the makeshift torch held in front of him. Hagrid did the same.

It was well known that werewolves had an innate fear of fire and their fur was highly flammable. The wolf reared up on its hind legs as Harry waved the torch at it, then cowered back, pacing back and forth just out of reach. Harry took this moment to study it. It was brown, with flecks of grey throughout and abnormally thin for a werewolf of its size. If he hadn't already been struck by it, he might think that this meant it was weaker. It wasn't, just more lithe and agile than a normal werewolf like Greyback, whom he had seen transform and become a hulking monster of a beast.

Harry moved over and passed his torch to Jimmy who was crying silently, watching the wolf with eyes filled with terror. "Take this. Keep a good hold on it and keep it raised." The boy nodded.

Harry had a suspicion that he knew who this wolf was and what he needed to do. He pointed his wand and made a whipping motion with it. A long rope of flame sprouted from his wand, leaving him holding a long whip of fire.

He swung the fire-whip at the wolf, forcing it to retreat a couple of steps, then cracked it at it, hitting it in the forepaws, sending it scampering back whimpering in pain, the fur on its paws burning. It eventually patted them out with the pads of its paws and snarled angrily at Harry, who snapped the whip at it again.

Feeling like ending this, Harry cracked the whip in a manner that made it wrap around the wolf's body. The wolf began to yelp and whimper as it tried desperately to get free. Harry took this moment to send Jimmy inside with Fang, casting a flame-freezing spell in the fire so that it wouldn't burn anymore. It did however create a tickling sensation which caused the wolf to continue thrashing about in fear. Finally Harry canceled both spells and the wolf ran off back into the forest.

Hagrid dropped his torch back into the fire with a heavy sigh. "Blimey, a werewolf in these parts? There ain' been one o' them 'round here in decades."

Harry kept his wand in his hand as he walked around the fire to join Hagrid. "It was Lupin," Harry said.

Hagrid shook his big shaggy head. "Nah. Lupin has his potion, keep him docile, it does."

Harry shook his head. "I'm almost certain it was him. I don't know how, but it was."

No more was said as Harry collected Jimmy from inside and the two set off back to the castle. Harry hand his wand in hand and had a small bluebell flame floating along the ground ahead of them. It was just before they reached the main pathway that the flames glinted off of something in the grass. Harry bent down and picked it up, bringing the flame up with it. It was a potion phial about the size of a golden snitch, filled with a clear, yet milky substance. Harry knew what it was immediately. Wolfsbane Potion. Lupin's potion. He hadn't taken it this night. He cursed under his breath.

"What's that?" Jimmy asked curiously.

Harry stuffed he potion in his coat pocket. "Nothing. Let's get back to the castle. It's not safe out here."

Harry escorted Jimmy back to the Gryffindor common room. The boy didn't say a word the whole way until they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. Jimmy spoke the password and the portrait swung open. Harry and he went it and Harry was immediately struck with how much red and maroon there was in that one room.

Jimmy went over and sat down on a long couch in front of the fire. Harry followed him over and sat beside him. "You alright?"

Jimmy looked up at him. "That was Uncle Remus wasn't it?"

Harry stared at the young boy, his lips pressed together grimly. Finally he nodded. "Yes, it was." He pulled out the phial of potion. "This is his potion. I had kicked it accidentally on my way down to Hagrid's earlier. Had I bothered to see what it was beforehand, none of this would have happened."

Jimmy nodded. "I heard you and Hagrid talking outside the hut."

Harry put his arm around his little brother's shoulders comfortingly. "The important thing is that no one got hurt."

"Except Uncle Remus," Jimmy sniffed.

"Yes," Harry agreed. "Except Remus."

Harry left a short while later, sending Jimmy to bed. He returned to his own chambers and dropped heavily into his own chair by the fire. He winced in pain and looked down at his side, where four long gashes could be seen through his coat. With a groan he leaned up and peeled his coat, waistcoat and shirt off, the latter of which was stained red with blood. He grimaced as the fabric pulled painfully at the wounds. Finally able to see it, he noted that the area around the wound was inflamed. He cast a healing charm that Snape had taught him over the wounds, but they barely responded. Cursing, he decided that he would have to go to the hospital wing and get them looked at.

He stood to fetch a robe to cover himself with when a spell of dizziness overcame him and he fell onto his hands and knees. His wounds were on fire and he could feel a fever coming on. With a gasp of pain, he collapsed completely and fell into unconsciousness.

 **XXXX**

 **A/N: Another chapter down. Longest one so far. This chapter was fueled by honey, cream, black tea and the entire soundtrack of The Witcher III: Wild Hunt on continuous loop. So you know who to thank, or curse, as the situation may be for this.**

 **THANK YOU ALL, especially those who have reviewed, favorited or followed this story. THANK YOU!**

 **Now, I must ask you all to once again click that little button down there and leave a few words. Let me know what you think; any suggestions you may have; general thoughts; or just to say hi. Whatever the case may be: feedback is always welcome!**

 **Until next time.**

 **-Atrocity.**


	13. Scars and Marks

**XIII. Scars and Marks**

The first thing he became aware of was the noises. The sound of several voices conversing in hushed tones. Or perhaps arguing. He could not be sure. Their words were unclear, though their voices seemed unusually loud to his ears.

The second thing he became aware of were the smells. Clean and fresh linens, glass and metal. Potions.

Finally, he became aware of himself. His stiff muscles; his empty stomach; his pounding, aching head. A faint, burning ache on his side.

He shifted his body slightly, and winced as pain lanced through his limbs. Relaxing back down, he decided instead to try and hear what was being said by whoever it was that was in the room with him. He had yet to open his eyes, unwilling to expose them to the harsh bright light that he was sure to find once he did.

"...I've told you that this is not his doing and must insist that you keep such accusations to yourself."

"Even if that is true, we cannot ignore the possibility. And there's this other matter as well. You know what it means, Dumbledore. He's one of _them_."

"This is another matter in which you must too keep quiet. Not only would the backlash be insurmountable, but I believe things may not be all that they seem."

"Confound it all, Dumbledore, I cannot simply ignore this!"

"And yet that is precisely what you must do, Cornelius."

Harry was confused about what they were talking about, but it didn't sound good.

Deciding that it was time to rejoin the living he opened his eyes with a pained gasp and slowly began to sit up, not bothering to suppress the groan that came from his lips. Immediately he was horror-struck. He had no shirt on. His Dark Mark was there, bold on his arm for all to see. This was not good. Not good at all. They knew. They bloody _knew_! His first instinct was to find his wand and kill his way out and flee back to the Dark Lord and hope he would be merciful, but he fought down that instinct. Perhaps he could lie his way out of this. Yes, he would try that first, and if that failed...

"Harry?"

Harry's head snapped up to see Dumbledore and Fudge walking over to him. Dumbledore had a concerned expression on his kind old face while Fudge looked like he had just been forced to swallow a lemon.

"Sir, where am I?" he asked blearily. "What happened?" He winced and his hand went to his side, which was still flaring with pain. He noticed that his bed was blocked off by large white curtains.

"Easy there, my boy. Please lay back." He adjusted Harry's pillow so that he could lean back against the head rail of the bed. "You're in the Hospital Wing. What do you remember?"

Harry wracked his memory, not faking it this time. "I...I remember going to Hagrid's. We went into the Forest to meet someone...Centaurs...We were attacked by a werewolf and Hagrid and I fought it off before it could hurt anyone. I got scratched though...I tried to heal it in my room but fell...that's all. No, wait. I found a potion bottle out on the grounds...Lupin's potion. He must have dropped it...that's why he attacked us."

"There! You see! He just said it. I _told_ you it was Lupin!" Fudge seemed right proud of himself. "I knew I should have stopped you when you appointed him as a teacher!"

" _Enough_ , Cornelius!" snapped Dumbledore, shooting a stern look at the Minister. He turned back to Harry and his eyes softened. "You say you found Professor Lupin's potion?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, sir. It should be in my room, in my coat pocket."

Dumbledore nodded. "I'll have someone retrieve it. It will stay good long enough to be put to use next month. Now, I'm afraid there is something else we must address." He reached over and grasped Harry's left forearm. Harry hung his head. "I want the truth, Harry."

Harry took a deep breath, trying to control his heartbeat. "I–" he swallowed. "I've had it for as long as I can remember," he said. And that was the truth, he let his shields slip just enough to allow Dumbledore to read that much.

"Do you remember when you got it?" the Headmaster asked.

Harry shook his head. "I've tried. It's a blur. I just remember...pain."

"Pain?" Dumbledore coaxed.

Harry nodded, swallowing again. "I still feel it sometimes. It's like..It's like my arm is on fire. What does it mean?" He look up at Dumbledore, allowing his eyes to shimmer with tears. He pushed some of his real fear into it as well.

Dumbledore sighed. "It means that Voldemort still has a connection to you. When the Mark burns, it is because Voldemort is calling his followers to his side." Fudge visibly flinched at each mention of the Dark Lord's name.

"But I'm not–"

Dumbledore raised a hand to silence the young man. "I know, Harry. I know. This does not mean however that we can ignore it. Until Voldemort is dead, he can find you. He can sense you, track your location. All with that Mark. I must implore you to come to me if you feel it burn again."

Harry nodded. "Yes, sir."

"I will have to inform your parents of this as well. Fear not. I shall explain it all to them so that you don't have to." He smiled in a grandfatherly manner. Harry inclined his head silently in acquiescence.

Dumbledore stood and motioned for the Minister to walk ahead of him. "We will leave you to rest, Harry. Though I daresay, do not take too much time. Your students have missed you this past week." He smiled, his eyes twinkling.

Harry almost choked. " _Week_?"

Dumbledore nodded. "I'll let Poppy explain it all to you. Believe it or not, she enjoys that part of the job." He and Fudge stepped out beyond the dividers, making their way out of the Hospital Wing. There was a sound at the far end of the room as the door opened. Dumbledore smiled. "Ah, hello, Miss Granger."

"Hello, Professor," he heard Hermione say. "Is Harry doing any better?" He could detect the worry in her voice.

"I do believe he is doing much better," Dumbledore assured her. "He has woken up, finally."

"May I see him?" Hermione asked.

"Of course," Dumbledore agreed. Harry felt himself go cold. He had no way to cover the Mark. And, it just occurred to him that his body was covered in scars of various shape and size. He didn't want her to see him like this. "I must warn you though," Dumbledore continued, snapping Harry back to attention, "There are things you will see that appear quite...damning. I must ask you not to judge before you learn."

Hermione must have been perplexed by this because her response was lilted with confusion. "Oh, um, alright, Professor."

Harry heard the sound of retreating footsteps and then a second later Hermione spoke through the curtains. "Harry," she called timidly. "May I come in?" He gave his assent and she stepped through the curtains, smiling. "How are you feeling?"

Harry grimaced. "About as well as could be expected I suppose."

Hermione nodded, looking a bit nervous. She had yet to actually look at him. Finally, she lifted her eyes to him and Harry saw them widen. Her hands came up to her mouth. "Harry..." she trailed off, stepping closer. She sat on the edge of his mattress and her eyes roamed over the many scars. Her eyes were brimming with tears and Harry felt his heart clench at the sight. "How...why...?" She reached out and timidly touched the one across his chest that he had earned from the Order when they had tried to infiltrate the Death Eater base.

Harry closed his eyes briefly at the touch. "I don't know. I don't remember. I've had them as long as I can remember."

It was then that her eyes found the Dark Mark and she slowly lifted his arm up so she could see it better. "A-And this one?"

Harry looked away. "I don't remember..."

Hermione nodded. "You were a child when all of this happened?"

Harry nodded. "Most of it. A couple of these are from later years. We have wild beasts in New Zealand too. I liked to explore. Had a few run-ins. I always walked away, but a couple of times it wasn't unscathed." What he didn't say was that 'New Zealand' meant Britain, 'explore' meant going on missions and 'wild beasts' meant his targets. He touched the four long scars along his abdomen. "And these are just the latest."

"That will never go away," Hermione said, looking at them as well. "Werewolf wounds never heal fully."

Harry nodded. "I know." He grinned. "I _do_ teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, you know."

Hermione shook her head, the corners of her lips curling up slightly. "No, you _assist_ in teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Harry waved his hand dismissively. "Details, who needs 'em?"

Hermione chuckled. Then she went quiet. "They're saying that it was Professor Lupin that did it. I don't know how, but word got out about it." She inhaled. "Was it really him?"

Harry nodded. "It was. I found his Wolfsbane Potion laying on the ground on the pathway to the village. He must have dropped it on his way off the grounds. He had no control over himself. Dumbledore's convincing Fudge to keep it quiet."

"What will _you_ do?"

Harry thought about that for a moment. "Continue as normal," he said finally. "Like I said. Lupin had no control over himself in that form. I don't blame the man." But there will be blood spilled in retaliation, he added silently. Not now, but later when the time was right.

It was at this moment that Madam Pomfrey appeared in their midst, a potion bottle in her hand. She handed it to Harry and told him to drink in a stern voice. "Make sure you take all of it. It should finish up the healing of your wounds with a few hours. I've been having to magically force these down your throat for the past week while you were unconscious. Foolish boy, what were you thinking letting a wound like that sit unattended for so long?"

Harry shrugged. "I thought I could take care of it myself. I guess I was wrong."

"I should say so," Poppy agreed irritably. "You're lucky that Miss Granger here found you. A couple of more hours and I may not have been able to save you."

Harry looked at Hermione. " _You_ found me?"

Hermione nodded. "I went to see you, but your door was locked and I knocked but got no answer. I was worried so I used magic to get in and saw you laying on the floor with blood all around you. I panicked and after determining that you were still breathing I ran to get Madam Pomfrey. Oh, Harry, there was so much blood."

Harry did something then that surprised even him. He grasped one of her shaking hands in his and gave it a comforting squeeze. Hermione wiped her eyes with the other hand and sniffed miserably. "Thank you, Hermione."

Hermione forced a smile and nodded.

Poppy interrupted grumpily. "Yes, yes, this all very touching but as I was saying, you nearly died, Mr. Potter. Not only were the cuts cursed, as all werewolf injuries are – though you can't be turned without the saliva – but they had sliced through some of your organs, causing internal bleeding. You are lucky you made it back to the castle at all, let alone survived the night. Your own magic kept you alive, though it was a losing battle."

"Then I guess I should thank both of you. If Hermione hadn't found me, you would never have been able to work your magic on me and save my life. So thank you both." Harry smiled at the nurse until she finally dropped her grumpy exterior and gave him a small smile in return.

Poppy went back to her office after telling Harry under no uncertain terms that he was to stay put and that he needed at least another day of rest before he could even think of leaving. Harry reluctantly agreed. She also gave him a bandage that he could wrap around his arm to hide the Dark Mark.

Harry and Hermione sat talking for some time, Hermione catching him up on what he had missed while he was out of commission, and about what extra books she was reading for each class. Harry merely sat and listened, studying her. It was not something he noticed at first, but his vision seemed keener, sharper. He wondered if it had anything to do with the werewolf scratch.

It was near dinner time before anyone else approached them. Harry heard the door open at the end of the room and cocked his head, listening to the footsteps get closer.

The curtains were opened again and Professor Lupin stood there, looking rested and contrite. Hermione looked at him, then back to Harry, giving his hand a squeeze. "I'll come back later, Harry."

Harry nodded. "Alright."

Harry and Lupin sat looking at each other in silence for a long time after Hermione made her exit.

Finally, it was Harry who broke the silence. "Feeling better, Remus?"

Remus looked shocked for a second, gaping. "I-I should be asking you that, Harry."

Harry shrugged. "I'm alive. And uninfected. That's got to count for something."

Lupin ran a hand through his grey flecked hair, his eyes pained. "I'm so sorry, Harry. I didn't realize that I had lost my potion until it was too late. If I had tried to go back for it, the moon would have caught me before I could get back and I couldn't risk changing so close to the school. It would seem that it was all for naught in the end though." He sighed and conjured a chair to sit in, sinking down into it heavily. "We got lucky this time."

Harry shook his head. "I don't believe in luck. Chance, yes. Sometimes things just fall a certain way. But luck? No. Luck is a concept created by the weak and skill-less to protect their pride."

Remus raised his brow at this. "That seems a bit harsh."

Harry shrugged. "Perhaps. It's something Barty, er, Bartholomew used to say all the time. I guess it stuck with me."

Remus nodded solemnly. "Well, for what its worth, I am glad that no one was hurt more than they were. If I had bitten anyone...you, Jimmy...my best friends' children...I could never live with myself." He suddenly looked years older than he was. "I don't know how I can face them _now_."

"If they are truly your friends, they will understand and not judge you for it."

"Ah, Harry, if only it were so simple."

"It can be. If you let it. Don't let your guilt cloud your mind so that you can't accept their forgiveness when they give it."

Remus smiled. "Harry, as much as I wish that would be the case, I fear your outlook on this matter is terribly naïve." He stood up with a heavy sigh and vanished his chair. "But thank you, regardless." He turned to leave.

Harry stopped him. "It wasn't your fault, Remus. Without your potion, you had no control. I don't blame you."

Remus just smiled, though it did not reach his eyes. "I'll see you in class, Harry."

"How did you lose it?" Harry asked. "Your potion. How did you lose it?"

Remus frowned down at himself, embarrassment clear to see on his features. "You may have noticed, Harry, that my robes are not the most well-kept. They are old and have been darned and patched several times over the years. My pocket...the stitching came loose and the phial slipped through and was lost. I...I think I may just need to give up and use what little money I have for some new robes."

With that, he was gone and Harry was left all alone.

He spent the next little while thinking and pondering. So another layer of himself had been bared to them. He had hoped to keep the Mark and his scars hidden for the duration of his time here. He supposed he should have expected this. He silently cursed Voldemort for making the Mark impossible to hide with magic.

"Hello, Harry."

Harry snapped out of his ruminations to find Luna standing next to his bed with a smile on her face. When had she come in? He hadn't heard her. How long had she been standing there?

"Er, hello, Luna," he stammered. "I didn't see you there."

Luna nodded knowingly. "I should say not. The Wrackspurts are all around you." Her eyes focused like she was looking at something that only she could see. "You have to think positive thoughts to get rid of them."

Harry sat there in confused silence for a moment. "Pardon?"

Luna giggled. "That's not how you do it, silly. Happy thoughts!"

"Er...right." He mentally shrugged. Happy thoughts huh? He wasn't sure what she was talking about but figured he'd humor her. So, he thought about how happy he would be when he could leave this place and return to the shadows where he belonged. It helped that it was after dinner and darkness had fallen, so the room wasn't quite so bright anymore, save the torch and candle light.

Luna swiveled her head to the side in an odd manner, as she was watching something float by and slightly above her. "There they go. Well done, Harry." She smiled brightly.

"So, what is a Wrackspurt?" Harry asked.

"They're little invisible creatures, about the size of a speck of dust." She leaned in conspiratorially. "They float in your ears and make your brain go fuzzy."

Harry frowned. "How come I've never heard of them before?"

"The Ministry doesn't want us to know," she said, tapping the side of her nose. "They use them, you see. Release them out like spores to keep everyone from thinking for themselves. Keeps them docile, so they won't protest when the Ministry does something they won't like. Daddy wrote an article on the matter a couple of months ago."

"Would this be the same 'daddy' who is supposedly a part of some "Boy-Who-Lived" cult?" Harry asked.

Luna's smile didn't falter in the slightest. "I wouldn't call it a 'cult', Harry. Just a group of individuals who are prepared to take your side when you finally take your proper place in our world." She looked at the bandage on his arm. "That will have to go, though," she said. Her eyes said that she knew something that she wasn't letting on.

Harry clasped a hand over his hidden Mark and narrowed his eyes. "Did Hermione tell you about that?" He tried not to sound betrayed.

Luna shook her head. "No. Hermione wouldn't betray you like that. I can see it. Well, not really see it so much as _sense_ it. You aren't the only one in the castle with one either."

This caught Harry's attention faster than anything else she had said. "What do you mean? Who else has the Mark?"

Luna stepped closer and whisper so that there was no risk of anyone hearing; not that there was anyone around to hear. "Professor Snape and..."

"Yes?" Harry pressed. He knew of Snape of course, but who else?

Luna look at him with her wide silver eyes. "Draco Malfoy."

 **XXXX**

 **LUNA EX MACHINA!**

 **Shorter chapter, but important nonetheless. Hope you all enjoyed it. Took a bit longer than I had expected. Sorry.**

 **So, what else does Luna know? Does she suspect that Harry isn't all he says he is? And if so, how does she feel about it? How would Hermione feel if she knew? Well, I'm not gonna answer those now, as that would be telling. Tune in next time and perhaps a few of these will be answered, perhaps not. Who knows, we may be left with even more questions than we already have.**

 **If you have a moment, please leave a comment in the review section. It would be much appreciated.**

 **Until next time!**


	14. The Room of Hidden Things

**XIV. The Room of Hidden Things**

Harry had to admit that is was quite a coup that Dumbledore had pulled off in keeping Remus' status as a werewolf out of the presses and despite that several concerned parents had sent letters to the school demanding to know the truth, the Headmaster had handled the situation with the utmost grace and poise. Simultaneously calming their ire and fear and preserving Remus' good name at the same time. If Harry didn't know any better he would have said that some cunning use of mind-magic was involved, but that sort of thing didn't work through the post so it was ludicrous to even consider such an idea.

For his part, Remus seemed to be doing better in regards to his guilt. He had received a letter from James telling him in no uncertain terms that he was expected at their home for Christmas and if he did not show he would be sending Sirius after to drag him back, kicking and screaming if need be. Based on Remus' reaction to this, Harry had no doubts that they would do it too.

The final nail, as it were, was when one day after class Jimmy ran up to Remus and gave him a solid hug around the middle, telling him that it was alright if he couldn't always control his furry little problem.

The look on Lupin's face had been priceless and Harry almost wished Creevey had been there to capture it with that infernal camera of his.

Things on the Draco front had been progressing a fair bit since he had learned from Luna that Draco had been granted the Dark Mark. Dobby had learned that the place Draco was going to so often was known to the Elves as the Come and Go Room and the Room of Hidden Things, though its official title as Harry had learned from Hermione was the Room of Requirement. Supposedly it was a room that could reshape itself endlessly into whatever the occupant needed. Harry also learned that the Room of Hidden Things was not the room itself, just one of its many forms. Dobby reported that Draco would walk back and forth in front of the blank wall three times before the door would appear. Harry determined to give it a go before he departed for winter break.

On the note of Draco, he had been looking to be in better health since Harry had confronted Pansy about the matter. He wasn't sure what she had done to get through to the foolish boy but for the sake of not having to deal with the hassle of explaining to Lucius and Narcissa that their only son had worked himself to death, Harry was glad.

Harry sat staring at the page in front of him as all of these thoughts ran through his head for what had to be the thousandth time.

He was no longer confined to the Hospital Wing, nor was his wounds giving him any more trouble. Though he found himself having a strange craving for rare steaks, which for some reason Remus found absolutely hilarious.

He was currently sitting in the library with Hermione and Luna, and Ron, much to Harry's annoyance.

"Harry, the Wrackspurts won't go away if you keep thinking like that," Luna said, not looking up from her own book.

Harry rolled his eyes, but didn't argue with her. She said this every time he got lost in deep thought about things that bothered him. It was scary how she seemed to always know.

Hermione lowered her book slightly and eyed him narrowly, then looked at Luna, then back to his suspiciously. She raised her book back up just as Harry glanced in her direction, feeling her eyes on him.

Ron snorted. "What the bloody hell is a Wrackspurt?" he asked in a voice that said he thought they were mental.

Hermione sighed before Luna could explain. "They're little invisible things that cloud your mind. Do try and pay attention, Ronald. She explained this yesterday."

Ron shrugged. "Must not have been listening."

"What else is new?" Hermione muttered sarcastically.

Ron obviously didn't hear her as he asked, "So, want to come over to my house for Christmas, Hermione?"

Harry scowled down at his book but said nothing.

"I've already told you that I'm spending the holiday with _my_ family. Then going over to the Potters' for on Boxing Day." Hermione said all of this without looking up from where she had begun writing furiously on a long scroll of parchment.

"Oh, _right_ ," Ron grumbled. He closed his book and tossed it on the table where it landed with a loud _bang_. Hermione glared at him at the same as Madam Pince, but he ignored both. "I'm tired of studying. I'm gonna go see if Seamus wants to play chess, or exploding snap."

He gathered up his bookbag and walked out of the library with quick, agitated steps.

Harry raised a brow. "What was that all about?" He already knew, but liked to play as if he didn't.

"Ron seems to think that if he keeps asking me over that I'll decide to change my plans for him. This is the fourth time he's asked me in as many days." She flipped a page in her book and began scanning it with the feather of her quill. "It's getting more than a little annoying."

Luna nodded sagely behind her book. "Ronald fancies Hermione. That's why he's so persistent."

Hermione blushed scarlet and shot the blonde a sharp glance. "Be that as it may," she bit out, "he should know that if I say 'no' I mean 'NO'." This was obviously a sensitive subject for the brown-haired bookworm.

Harry merely nodded along, already knowing all of this. "So, I take it the attraction is one-sided?"

Harry was proud of himself for keeping his voice neutral.

Hermione scoffed. "Attraction is a strong word for anything I regard Ron with. Don't get me wrong, he's my friend, and I care about him, just not like _that_."

"If was any more one-sided it would be in danger of tipping," Luna chortled. "Come to think of it, Ron is a bit top-heavy. He leans a bit when he walks." she said the last bit in a hushed voice, like it was some big secret.

Hermione shook her head, smiling softly.

"So, you're coming over after Yule?" Harry asked.

Hermione nodded. "I've been going to the Potter's after Christmas since my second year." She screwed up her face in confusion. "Yule?"

Harry nodded, closing his book. He was only here to spend time with his friends while they studied. After all, he didn't have homework. "It's what I've always called it. Seems more appropriate. I never understood why they call it Christmas here in the Wizarding World, since there doesn't seem to be any actually presence of Christianity in any form here. I'm certainly not."

Hermione looked thoughtful. "Honestly, I'm not sure. You're right. I've never met a single witch or wizard who was Christian, except a few Muggleborns. But that's the muggle influence. Most magical people seem to either be completely non-religious or practice some form of Shamanism or Druidism. And there's a heavy tone of Paganism to most of this." She gestured at the books in her hand. "Save for the fact that our spells derive from Latin for the most part."

Luna was twirling her wand between her fingers. "It's all left over from the Burning Times," she said.

Harry's expression darkened at her words. Hermione looked confused and concerned. "What is the Burning Times?" she asked.

Harry scowled. "Mass killing of witches and wizards by the church in medieval times. Well, they started a lot earlier than that, but that was when it started getting more attention. The church wanted to erase all traces of the Old Ways from the earth. It started in Rome where they destroyed and desecrated the temples and shrines to the gods and killed all who refused to give up the practices. Magical peoples were a lot more numerous in those days and the muggles feared them. It spread though, across Europe and into the Americas over the course of centuries. Burnings and hangings, drownings, beheadings. I'm sure you've heard of the Salem Witch Trials, the Spanish Inquisition. The _Malleus Maleficarum,_ also called _The Hammer of the Witches_. The Witch Hunts. A bit of a misnomer as it was not just witches who were killed. Wizards as well, and even some unlucky muggles or squibs." He glowered into the middle distance.

Hermione was looking pale. "That's horrible."

Harry nodded. "It's an offense that has yet to be repaid." He shook himself out of his stupor. "Anyway. Spells having Latin-sounding incantations came from two sources, according to our histories. The first was Christian monks and priests trying to Christianize magic; the second is because Witches and Wizards did it to disguise their spellwork as Christian prayer to try and avoid persecution."

"What about witches like Wendelin the Weird?" Hermione asked. "She got burned at least forty-seven times because she enjoyed it so much."

Harry nodded. "While it's true that experienced wizards and witches could use a Flame-Freezing Charm to avoid a fiery death, but not all could. Especially not the children, and not those who could not afford to be trained. And Wendelin was eventually caught and hanged, so her story is a moot point."

Hermione frowned. "Oh. So, how did the Wizarding community survive?"

"Went underground," he said. "Established villages that muggles could not find. Fought back when magic-using monks and such would come after them. Finally, after the eighteenth century, we began to fade into obscurity and the muggles forgot all about us except in fairy tales and legend."

Hermione nodded. "In the muggle world, they teach that the Witch Hunts were a result of extreme religious fervor and intolerance of people who were different. And that all of those killed were not actually magic at all."

Harry shook his head sadly. "Muggles will do anything to not believe we exist. What they fail to realize is that they all have magic in their ancestry going back to before recorded history. They've just lost it over time. I believe they call it evolution in the muggle world. Or in this case it would be devolution. They stopped being able to access their magic after generations of refusing to use it. They turned their backs on our world a long time ago and left us severely endangered as a result."

They descended into silence after that. Harry silently stewing at the thought of what the muggles had done so long ago. As he had said, it was an offense that had not been repaid. He would repay it, someday. He felt relief as his hate for muggles was reinforced once more.

Luna smiled behind her book, and Hermione sat in deep thought, her homework all but forgotten.

 **XXXX**

It was the day when everyone who was going home for the holidays was to leave. Harry noted that Draco was leaving for home along with his posse, and Harry felt a sense of relief that the boy would not be working on whatever he was up to while Harry was away for the break.

As it was, Harry was on the seventh floor, looking at the blank space of wall where this mysterious hidden room was located.

He paced back and forth in front of the wall, three times and stopped, looking at the wall expectantly. Nothing happened. Cursing, he tried again. Still nothing.

Annoyed, he began pacing agitatedly. I need to find what Draco's up to, he thought irately, grinding his teeth as he paced back and forth. It wasn't until his fifth time passing that he realized that something was different. He stopped and look at the large doors that had just appeared, seemingly out of nowhere.

Well, that was convenient, he thought.

Shrugging, he pulled open the door and stepped inside.

The first thing he noticed was that the room was huge, and filled almost to the ceiling with _junk_. What on earth could Draco be doing in here? There were several piles of books, so he supposed that he could be reading, but that seemed thoroughly unlikely.

So, he set off through the maze of discarded and broken items in search of...something. Answers; clues; anything.

He passed countless things that as part of the whole were uninteresting but by themselves stood out; shelves filled with old books; stacks of books that looked ready to topple at any minute; a busted up set of giant chess pieces; old phials of coagulated potions; bottles with dangerous, evil-looking contents; piles of busted and ruined furniture; what looked like several full-sized medieval catapults; a wrack of old, rusted swords; hats strewn on the floor or sitting on top of other items; a large chest overflowing with precious gems, probably cursed; coat wracks with cloaks; various cages, one of which had a skeleton in it belonging to something humanoid, save for the fact that it had five legs; trophies; a banjo with a cracked body; suits of armor; etc.

He was deep in the mass now, when he caught sight of something that looked worryingly familiar. He approached, tripped over a large, bloodstained axe and caught himself of a bust of an ugly warlock with a wig and a bronze tiara with a big blue stone set into the center. There was something familiar about it, but he decided he'd look at it later.

He righted himself, and looked up at the vanishing cabinet. It looked just like the one in Borgin and Burke's. Could it be the same one? Had Draco brought it with him for some reason? Or was this the missing twin? If this was the twin...why, the implications were startling.

Harry approached it and circled it. And found that one side had a long crack running across a set of Runes. He smirked. It was broken. So, Draco was most likely trying to repair it, get it working again. For what purpose he didn't know, but he had some ideas. He ran his fingers over the broken Runes and smirked. Draco had never been particularly good with Runes. Harry could see already how to fix it, the proper sequence of Runes and the optimal placement. He could have this contraption back up and running in a day at most, a few hours if he did a rush job. But he would do no such thing this day. Let Draco slave away on his little project; in the meantime, Harry would continue to get close to Dumbledore, and when the time was right, he would strike the killing blow.

He backed away and made it way back the way he had come.

He caught sight of the strangely familiar tiara and stopped, studying it curiously. Where had he seen that before? He knew he had, but he could not recall where. Finally, after a moment of thought, he remembered. It was on the Painting of Rowena Ravenclaw in the Aviary.

It couldn't be though. It had been lost centuries ago.

He plucked the Diadem, because that's what it was actually called, and turned it over in his hands. Yep, there it was, engraved into the metal of the back: _Wit Beyond Measure is Man's Greatest Treasure_. That sealed it. It _was_ the Lost Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw.

Odd, it being here of all places. He decided he should return it, give it to the Headmaster, so he could put it on display. He had seen the Sword of Gryffindor hanging in his office, so this would be a nice addition to the set. He could keep for himself, he thought alternatively. Use it to his advantage. Curious about it, he lifted it up and placed it on his head.

Almost immediately, he regretted this decision. His head exploded in pain and he dropped to his knees, then thrashed onto his side, his body contorting in a painful manner. He could hear screaming, and cold, hissing laughter. He knew that laugh; it was Voldemort. Suddenly, memories began flashing before his eyes, of his victims, he could hear their cries for mercy, their tortured wails, his own laughter as he ended their lives. Then, he saw something that would haunt him for the rest of his life: visions of things yet to come. He saw himself laying broken on the floor, hooded figures all around him, taunting him. Then one stepped out from the ranks and removed his hood. It was himself and he was grinning maliciously at Harry. Then he saw his friends, Hermione, Luna and Barty all hanging by their necks from a rough wooden gallows, their skin chalky and translucent, their eyes empty and pale, their tongue protruding grotesquely from their mouths. And atop the gallows was a raven, Rune, cawing in a mocking manner. He then hopped down and began pecking Hermione's eyes out.

Harry became aware of screaming again and then suddenly it all ended and the screaming he found was coming from himself.

He quieted and took stock of himself. He was laying on the floor, and the Diadem was laying several feet away on top of a set of dominoes and a cracked fanged-Frisbee. How had it gotten there? Had he thrown it?

"Is Harry Potter sir all right?"

Harry started and turned toward the voice, finding himself face-to-face with Dobby. "Dobby? Wha-what happened?"

Dobby wrung his hands nervously. "Mr. Harry Potter sir was screaming, sir. Dobby is being a good Elf and removing evil crown from his head."

Harry looked from Dobby to the Diadem, then back again. "Thank you, Dobby. I...I owe you my life."

Dobby shook his head. "Oh no, sir, that is not being necessary."

"Dobby," Harry started, but the little Elf shook his head.

"Please, sir, don't be giving Dobby anything. Seeing Harry Potter sir alive and well is enough." Dobby smiled up at him with adoration.

Harry sighed. "Very well, Dobby." He patted the little Elf on the head before dismissing him.

Harry climbed to his feet and walked over to the Diadem. He knelt down and looked over it. What had happened? Was that what it was supposed to do? Was it trying to tell him something? Was it broken? Deciding that he needed to get this thing looked at, he looked around and found a small burlap sack laying nearby. He quickly stuffed the Diadem inside and retraced his steps back the way he had come.

He trekked down to Dumbledore's office, taking the stairs three at a time and practically running down the corridors. He passed Filch yelling at Peeves, who was hovering overhead throwing pieces of a dismantled suit of armor at the hapless caretaker, all the while the armor was politely asking to be put down. He nearly bowled poor Flitwick over, and would have had he not had the presence of mind to hurdle the diminutive Professor.

Finally, he reached the second floor and gasped the password, not even waiting for the gargoyle to move completely before squeezing passed. He took the spiral stair two at a time and knocked soundly on the door.

"Enter," came the voice of the Headmaster, but Harry already had the door open, having only knocked as a courtesy.

Harry absently closed the door and strode across the office to where the Headmaster was sitting and put the sack down on the desk between them, his breathing heavy.

"Harry? I daresay, did you run the whole way here?" He asked. Upon seeing Harry's urgent expression he asked, "What is it?"

Harry pushed the sack toward Dumbledore. "You need to look at this."

Dumbledore looked at him in concern, then slowly opened the sack, reaching in and pulling out the Diadem. A sharp inhalation escaped him as he realized what he was looking at. "Ravenclaw's Lost Diadem...dear me...Where on earth did you find it?"

Harry sank into a chair. "Seventh floor. Room of Hidden Things."

Dumbledore raised his brow at this. "It was in the castle? Most extraordinary..." He made as if he were going to put the Diadem on, but Harry's hand snapped out like a striking snake and caught his wrist in a firm grip. For a moment, the Headmaster's eyes flashed, but it was gone so fast that Harry was uncertain if he had seen it at all.

"I wouldn't do that, sir," Harry cautioned. He did not release his grip until the Headmaster began to lower the Diadem back to the desk. "I made the mistake of doing so." He sat down again. "I was curious as to its effects, you see. But once I put it on...I've never felt such pain...not even from _this_." He gestured to his arm where the Dark Mark was.

Dumbledore looked somewhat humbled. "Then perhaps it is best not to try it," he agreed. "But I have to wonder, could you tell me what else you experienced when you placed it on. Can you remember it?"

Harry nodded. "I can. I placed it on, and suddenly it felt like my head was being split in two, and I heard screaming, which I believe was myself, and then I heard cold, high-pitched laughter. It was...familiar somehow. Then I saw myself, laying on the floor, twisted and contorted, with a circle of hooded figures around me. Then I saw my friends...I saw Hermione...they were hanging...dead...ravens pecking at their flesh...Then the laughter again and suddenly I was free and the Diadem was laying several feet away." He withheld that it was Dobby who had actually saved him. The Headmaster did not know about Dobby, and he wanted to keep it that way. Perhaps he would think that Harry had somehow managed to throw it off of himself as he thrashed about in agony.

Dumbledore sat in silence, his expression grave. He looked at the Diadem with a new light in his eyes. Almost sad. "I never thought even he would go so far as to defile such an important historical relic as this." He sighed.

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore just shook his head sadly, suddenly looking his age. Finally after a long moment he cleared his throat loudly and sat up straighter. "It is my greatest sadness to have to say this, but I believe you have just discovered another of Voldemort's Horcruxes, Harry."

Harry gaped. "Really?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes. And while this bodes well for our search, I fear that means that the Diadem will have to be destroyed."

Harry thought about that. He could understand the disappointment of having to ruin a priceless artifact, especially one belonging to a Hogwarts founder, but Harry was willing to pay that price to remove these things from the earth. He had already decided to help Dumbledore destroy Voldemort, but not for the reasons the Old Man was wanting to. Harry knew that if he ever wanted to rise above his current station, he would have to kill the Dark Lord. That and it was on principle. If there was one thing Harry had respect for in this world, it was Death. Death was a natural course, a path that all men must someday walk, and Voldemort was defying the very fabric of nature by creating these vile things. He had to restore the balance. For the greater good, as Grindelwald would have said.

"Sir," he started, "If destroying the Diadem will put us even one step closer to destroying Voldemort, then that is a price we must pay. _I_ will gladly pay that price to see him and his legacy removed from this world. For the greater good." He added this last bit to play on Dumbledore's old friendship and ideals that he had shared with Grindelwald.

"For the greater good," Dumbledore echoed quietly. He looked over at his bookshelf where the books he had written about Grindelwald sat, a faraway look in his eyes. "Yes. You're right. It must be done. For the greater good of us all." He turned back to the desk. "Thank you, Harry." He smiled at him. "It is curious, you know."

Harry cocked his head. "Curious, sir?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Curious indeed that you would say such things. For a moment, I was a seventeen year old lad and I could almost hear _him_ saying those words. You remind me of him sometimes, Harry."

"Of Grindelwald, sir?"

"Yes," Dumbledore said. Harry wasn't sure how to take that. "I mean no offense, Harry. In fact, quite the opposite. He was, for all of his faults, one of the greatest men I ever knew. He had a charisma about him, and it inspired people. So many people. And despite what many would have you believe, he was not all evil and by no means reviled. People loved him. When he spoke, they listened. It was the establishment that feared him. And after his defeat, by myself, they painted an image of a wanton killer and terrorist. He was neither. I can count the number of people he killed one two hands. Don't get me wrong though, he was dangerous, but in a way that most cannot hope to ever match. Perhaps his greatest quality was that he did what he knew was right, regardless of what others thought. A true leader.

"As I said, when he spoke, people listened. And it was his words that started the Second Great War. It was he that whispered into Hitler's ear and told him to destroy the Russians. You see, Stalin, who was a muggle, had rounded up and slaughtered almost all of the magicals in his country. Grindelwald was furious because of this and went to the leader of his own homeland and convinced him to strike back. That this would also help the native Germans who were, at the time, being persecuted in the German land that had been granted to Poland by the Treaty of Versailles was just the icing on the cake for Hitler; that and the chance to destroy Communism, which has been a constant threat to freedom. It was a war fought on three separate fronts. In the east, against the Soviets, in the west against the British and French, and later the Americans, and in the background where it was Grindelwald against the world.

"Over time, Grindelwald's forces were dwindled down by the combined efforts of the British, French, Spanish and American Ministries. And in march of 1945, I defeated Grindelwald after forcing the Ministries to agree to spare his life. He was on his way to Berlin to help reinforce the city against the advancing Red Army, and without him, the city fell and Hitler was defeated. It was only afterward that we heard of what the Nazis had done. Before then, they were seen as the saviors of Europe. They still are in some circles, but these modern 'Nazis' are little more than thugs and degenerates spouting hate for the sake of it." he sighed. "I am sorry, I seem to have lost track of the conversation. Forgive me for showing my age again, Harry."

Harry waved him off. "Think nothing of it, sir. It is always interesting to hear about history from one who was actually there."

"History can teach us many things, Harry. What has worked, and what has not. What we may wish to try again, what should never be tried again." He smiled. "Your interest in history will help you immensely, I think. You see the past as something learn from, but not as the answer to every problem." He suddenly blinked. "But I do believe I have kept you far too long. The train home will be leaving soon and I imagine you would wish to board it so that you may spend that time with your friends."

Harry pulled out his pocket watch and looked at it. He nodded. It was twenty-til-eleven. "Yes, you're right." He stood up. "Thank you, Professor. I shall see you at the start of term. Have a lovely Yule."

Dumbledore nodded and smiled. "And you as well, my boy."

After the Door closed behind Harry, Dumbledore sat in thought. Wondering if the world was ready for another Grindelwald, and if Harry would fair better in the end than his own old friend had. Perhaps he should arrange to visit Nurmengard over the holiday. After all, Gellert had always loved Yule.

 **XXXX**

 **A/N: Another chapter down. What do you guys think?**

 **I know I took a few liberties with Grindelwald and such here, and used an alternate view of our our own history that most don't really adhere to, but I did my research and I used what I found to be more realistic parts, and the parts that can be verified by multiple sources.**

 **Now, for that part that I love so much: Leave me some feedback!**


	15. Jól

**XV. The Homecoming III: Jól**

Harry stood looking out over the snow-covered grounds of Potter Manor. They were spacious – at least as large as that of the Malfoys', but with less pompousness and vulgar displays of wealth. The only real thing that ruined the open majesty of the view was the Quidditch pitch that had apparently been an addition by James after his parents had died. Harry found it an eyesore. Not that he had anything against Quidditch, he just thought that putting a pitch in the front lawn was a bit, well, stupid.

At current, Jimmy was flying around up there, chasing a golden snitch on his Firebolt. He had said that he wanted to practice while he could before going back to Hogwarts, where he played for the House team.

He and his team in Gryffindor had managed to thoroughly stomp the Slytherin team in the first match of the season. Draco Malfoy, who had been their Seeker, had quit the team, forcing them to try and find a replacement, and their pick was anything but spectacular. In the second match, Harry had felt a bit of House pride when Ravenclaw came out on top over Hufflepuff. Hufflepuff's glory days were behind them, as their best Seeker, Cedric Diggory had already graduated some three years earlier. The first match after they got back from break would be Ravenclaw vs. Slytherin, and Harry liked his House's chances of securing the win.

For the most part, Harry felt quite uncomfortable here, but at the same time, a sense of belonging. The discomfort came from the close proximity of his parents, both of whom he hated to his core - or at least his father he did. While they weren't bad people in the general sense. They were kind, generous, intelligent, skilled, and they seemed to be doing a decent job of raising Jimmy, but therein lay the point of contention. How could they be such good parents to one child, but completely abandon their firstborn? It didn't make sense. Harry chalked it up to cowardice on his father's part. After all, he had seen the memory of that night from Voldemort's perspective, and while his mother had fought to try and go back for him, James had forced her to apparate away with him by way of unwilling side-along apparation. His hate for his mother was less than his hate for his father, but a part of him would not let him forgive her.

The belonging came from the fact that this land had belonged to his family for centuries and would one day be his to do with as he pleased. That pitch would be the first thing to go, he decided.

One could still see one of the earliest forms of the house in the main section, all stone and looking very much like a small castle. The added on sections looked similar but were obviously not original. Each generation had added on to the house in some way, though the change from _the_ original was by far the most extreme. The Potter Manor had originally been known as Potter's Hall, or Pottere's Heall in Old English, and had been the home of one of Harry's ancestors for which he was named after; one Hardwin Pottere – the Eldest son of Linfred of Stinchcombe, also known as Linfred the Potterer, who was a renowned maker of remedies and created the foundations for which such potions as Skele-Grow and the Pepperup Potion – was the first to build the great Longhouse that had been Potter Hall, after his father's death, leaving him and his six sibling with a small fortune each. Hardwin married a young witch named Iolanthe Peverell, granddaughter of Ignotus Peverell, who was rumored to have inherited one of the Deathly Hallows from her grandfather in the absence of a male heir. James claimed to have the Hallow now, as it was a family heirloom, and that Harry would one day inherit it as well. Harry was skeptical of this, but did not say as such.

Henry Potter, known as Harry to his friends, was the other namesake for Harry. He was James's grandfather and had been a prominent member of the Wizengamot. It was his actions in this time, arguing that the Wizards should lend aid to the Muggles in the First Great War and other outspokenness in favor of Muggles – as well as the fact that Potter just happened to be a common Muggle name, despite their family's non-Muggle origins of the name – was a large part of the reasoning not to include the Potter family in the esteemed Sacred Twenty-Eight, a group of Pure-Blood families still considered to be the 'True Purebloods'. Families in this group included the Abbotts, the Blacks, the Carrows, the Crouches, the Flints, the Greengrasses, The LeStranges, The Longbottoms, The Malfoys, The Ollivanders, the Parkinsons, the Prewetts, the Shacklebolts and the Weasleys; to name a few.

Harry found it rather pathetic of his ancestor to muck up their legacy and drag their name through the mud in such a manner as to be excluded from a group that the bloody Weasleys and Longbottoms were still considered part of, despite their general lack of regard for blood purity – not to mention the Malfoys and LeStranges, who were not even British families and had no seat on the Wizengamot; they were French and had to use underhanded tactics such as bribes and threats to get their way. Harry would have to do something to remedy that in the future.

Jimmy landed not a few feet away and trotted up the stairs, a small golden snitch clasped in his hand. The little ball was still flapping its wings furiously, trying to escape the youngest Potter's grasp. If Jimmy noticed its vain attempts, he did not make any signal of it.

"What's got you all grouchy?" Jimmy asked.

Harry frowned. "I'm not grouchy."

"Yes you are," Jimmy countered.

"How am I grouchy?" Harry demanded.

Jimmy let go of the snitch so that he could count on his fingers. "First, you're frowning; second, you've got that 'I'm grouchy' look in your eyes; third, you're all rigid and stiff; fourth, you got all defensive when I called you grouchy; fifth-"

"All right, I get the point," Harry groused.

Jimmy grinned. "So, what's got you so grouchy?"

Harry sighed. "I'm not grouchy."

Jimmy sighed too, in an exaggerated manner. "We just went over this, yes you are."

Harry just shook his head.

"You miss Hermione?"

Harry snapped his head to the side to stare at his brother. "What? No"

Jimmy poked him in the side. "I think you do." Harry waved him off. "You looked like you were gonna pass out when she hugged you at the platform."

Harry swatted lightly at the younger boy, who skipped back out of reach easily. "Did not."

"Ooh, touched a nerve!" Jimmy crowed. "You should be careful though, I think the Wrackspurts are coming back."

"OK, you go on!" Harry said, grabbing Jimmy by the shoulders and turning him around and pushing him back toward the house.

Jimmy laughed as he scampered off, leaving Harry shaking his head with a golden snitch buzzing around him like an annoying insect. Speaking of bothersome pests, Jimmy ran back over, jumping slightly, and grabbed the golden ball out of the air in front of Harry's face before running back off again.

Jimmy had indeed touched a nerve. Harry was, despite himself, very much looking forward to when Hermione would be joining him here at the Potter home.

His thoughts of her though were cut short by Jimmy yelling his name across the lawn. "HARRY! COME ON! DA SAYS HE'S GOT SOMETHING TO TELL US!"

Harry sighed and trudged back up the grounds and into the house. The interior was actually quite pleasing to Harry. Dark woods and stone, muted colors that weren't garish or painful to the eyes. Now, if only there wasn't so much Gryffindor red and more blacks and blues he would be perfectly happy with it. But that was neither here nor there.

He made his way into the lounge to find his father and mother sitting together in front of the fire. Harry sat down in a chair facing them, Jimmy was sitting on the floor in front of the fire, warming himself after his flying out in the winter air.

"Ah, there you are, Harry," Lily smiled. James did the same, only not as warmly. He was still suspicious of Harry, and Harry knew it all too well. He had caught James looking at him in a strange manner quite often, mostly when he didn't think Harry could see him, and especially when Lily wasn't looking. Harry had only been here for two days and he was already bored with James' lack of trust. At first it had been amusing, but the novelty wore off pretty quickly. The day after tomorrow was Christmas Eve, and Sirius would be arriving along with Remus and Sirius' cousin Andromeda Tonks and her husband and daughter. Harry hoped the extra people would distract James enough to stop acting so paranoid. His paranoia was justified, but but it wasn't endearing. It had only gotten worse after their talk about the Dark Mark on his arm, which Dumbledore had told them about. In the end, Harry had easily convinced Lily that it had been branded on him when he was Voldemort's captive, possibly as a means to torture him, but that he couldn't remember. James was a little less convinced of this tale. the problem was that it was only a half lie. He hadn't tortured him with the mark, but before that...he couldn't remember.

"Well, Jimmy said you had something to tell us, so I came. What's up?" Harry asked.

James cleared his throat. "You and Jimmy need to get dressed up. We've been invited to dinner by my old boss, Bartemius Crouch, and we've accepted the invitation." He looked at the old grandfather clock against the wall. "We'll be leaving within the hour."

Harry nodded, keeping his face straight as he stood and walked from the room, making his way up to the bedroom that was now designated as Harry's Room. It was simple, with just a bed, desk, wardrobe and connecting bathroom. Harry had used magic to change all of the Gryffindor red into Ravenclaw blue and black, to better suit his taste. In the corner was a perch on which Rune was perched. He cawed merrily at Harry as he entered the room, making Harry smile slightly. He'd get the chance to thank Barty for his gift sooner than he thought. That was the only reason he had agreed to this idea without any protest. He would be back around someone he considered a true friend and ally for the first time since he had left Malfoy Manor.

Harry changed into a different suit than what he was already wearing, opting for a dark grey button-down and a black silk waistcoat and dress trousers. The only thing he kept from his usual outfit was his black dragon-hide boots – stylish _and_ functional – and his pocket watch, which had been a souvenir from his first kill - after Walburga - taking the silver watch from the dead body of Sturgis Podmore. It was a very beautiful piece too. Hand-crafted goblin-wrought silver with an image of a great tree and roots on both sides of the outer case. Harry liked to think of it as a good luck charm, despite not actually believing in the concept of luck in the traditional sense. Either way, he was fond of it and it was one of his few prized possessions. It was his by right. He had paid the iron price for it, as he had heard a foreign Death Eater once say.

Harry pulled on a long black frock coat, similar to his usual coat but more on the stylish side and less practical, and adjusted his equally black tie. Finally he looked at himself in the mirror and nodded approvingly. His hair, which was naturally messy like his father's was tamed and combed, though some of his fringe fell down by his cheekbones. He could do with a shave to get rid of the light stubble but decided against it. He was feeling a bit rebellious.

Five minutes later he was in the foyer of the manor, waiting by the fireplace that was the designated floo entrance and exit. He was the first to arrive it seemed. He glanced at his watch. In fifteen minutes it would be five o'clock, and the designated 'within the hour' his father had specified would be up.

Five minutes later Jimmy came running into the foyer with a grin on his face, dressed in a modern Muggle-style tuxedo. Harry suppressed a look of disgust at the outfit. A moment later his father entered, wearing the same. At least Harry's could pass as dress-robes and were more than a bit out of date in the Muggle world. His mother entered soon after in a rather flattering deep blue evening gown and white shawl.

She smiled at them all with evident pride. "Oh, don't you all look so handsome," she complimented, straightening Jimmy's tie for him and making an effort to smooth his hair, which was just as messy as James'. "If only we could do something about your hair," she lamented when it resisted all of her efforts. She looked at Harry. "See, Harry knows what to do."

Harry smiled as James scowled and Jimmy just shrugged.

James looked at Harry's clothes. "A bit behind the times, eh? Those must be ancient."

Harry shook his head. "Not at all. I bought them in Diagon Alley before the term started. At Madam Malkin's. They are quite in style in Wizarding Europe, I assure you." He slightly emphasized the word 'Wizarding', as if James had forgotten that they were in fact Wizards.

James frowned slightly, catching what he was getting at, but said nothing as he took the floo powder and threw some in the fire. Lily went first, calling out the name of the Crouch residence, then Jimmy went, and Harry followed close behind, ignoring the look James was giving him while they were alone.

Crouch Manor was not too different from Potter Manor on the inside. The woods were not quite as dark, and the furniture and tapestries were of a neutral grey color. They were met in the foyer by Bartemius, Sr. and his wife, who was a frail looking woman with wispy brown hair. Bartemius was a rather severe looking man with short greying dark hair and a toothbrush mustache; though at the moment he was smiling amiably at them.

Harry had seen Bartemius only in photographs in the Prophet, where he always looked cold and composed. It was difficult to equate this man with that one, and the image of him that Barty painted. Speaking of Barty, he had just walked through a door off to the side and was smiling at them. Harry kept the look of familiarity off his face as he shook his hand, along with Bartemius'.

Bartemius chided Barty for being late and Harry could see Barty's jaw tighten, though his smile never faltered.

They were led into a spacious dining room where they were seated very specifically. Bartemius and James sat at either end of the long table, at the 'heads', their wives on their lefts, followed by their eldest sons. Jimmy was seated at the far end near Bartemius. Harry was seated directly across from Barty, who looked a bit uncomfortable with having to attend a family dinner with his father. Harry met his gaze and rolled his eyes, making the older man smirk.

Throughout the first course – cream of barley soup – James and Bartemius conversed about work, with their wives pitching in from time to time, and Jimmy asking questions. Harry and Barty both sat in silence. It was as they were waiting for the second course that Harry was drawn into the conversation.

"Harry," Lily gained his attention. "Mr. Crouch was just asking you a question."

Harry bowed his head in apology to their host. "Apologies, sir. My mind was elsewhere."

Bartemius smiled. "Think nothing of it, boy. Tell me, what was your life like before you returned to us? You lived in New Zealand, was it?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, sir. I lived in a small cottage far out in the countryside near Aoraki, er, Mount Cook. It was a rather harsh and rocky area. We raised and bred Himalayan Tahr, mountain goats, and sold their cheese at market for income. It fetches a decent price at inns and taverns. And even better to foreigners. It wasn't glamorous but it was all I knew. We traveled from time to time, visiting the continent to meet with prospective buyers. Before I left, I sold the farm and the cottage to a nearby neighbor."

"So you have nothing tying you back to the place?" Bartemius asked.

Harry shook his head. "No, sir. The man who raised me died a month before I returned here to Britain, which was when I learned who I really was. Before that, I thought I was Harrald King, adopted son of Bartholomew King the goat herder."

Barty snorted and spoke for the first time. "Harrald? Sounds like an old Scandinavian bloke."

Harry scowled at him. "Why does everyone keep saying that?"

"Barty, behave yourself," Crouch Sr. scolded his son like he was a child. Harry was beginning to see why Barty was so irked with him.

"Sorry, father," Barty apologized, sounding contrite, but Harry could see that he didn't mean it in the slightest.

"So, Harry," Bartemius continued. "How are you finding life here in England?"

Harry was stopped from answering momentarily by the arrival of the second course – poached wild salmon with mousseline sauce and fresh cucumbers – but picked up the line of conversation once it had been placed on the table by the House Elf Winky, whom Harry thanked, much to her embarrassment.

"England is fine," he said amicably. "A bit too busy for my taste. But I've only really been in London and Diagon Alley, so that could play a factor. I'm more accustomed to the openness of the Southern Alps. Hogwarts is nice, the grounds are spacious and the Forest is pleasant, and there are a few small mountains near the school which is a bit of a comfort. The Highland air is clean and crisp, much like the air in the area I lived in. So all in all it is pleasant."

Mr. Crouch nodded along with this. "I'm told you achieved twelve O.W.L.s," he said.

Harry nodded. "Yes, sir. I'm told it is no mean feat. And that your son is one of the few who have done it in recent years."

Bartemius nodded. "Yes. Very few do. My assistant at work, Weatherby, did it."

Harry kept his amusement off his face. He knew that Mr. Crouch's assistant was actually Percy Weasley; Snape, Barty and Ron had all told him so on multiple separate occasions.

"Weasley, dear," Mrs. Crouch corrected him gently.

"Hm? Oh, yes, right," Mr. Crouch said as if it didn't really matter. Harry wondered if this sort of indifference was what had driven he and Barty so far apart. He hadn't even bothered to comment on the fact that his own son had managed this achievement, instead speaking of his assistant whom he never bothered to remember the name of. He went on ask Harry about his NEWTs and his subsequent appointment as assistant Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor.

From there, conversation turned to other topics as the third, and main, course was served to them – Sirloin of beef with chateau potatoes – and Harry was glad to no longer be the focus of attention. Throughout the meal, Barty alternated between knowing glances at Harry and concerned glances at his mother, who did not eat much of any of the courses.

Harry was again struck by how weak and frail she appeared to be. He had to guess that her health was failing her. He determined to speak to Barty about it later. For all that Barty complained about his parents, he had never really had an issue with his mother. Sure, she wasn't as attentive as a mother probably should be, but Harry could see that she genuinely loved her son and Barty in turned cared a great deal for her. As for Barty and his father, the general lack of connection between them was obvious, at least to Harry.

Desert – a rather lovely creamy vanilla pudding with a hint of nutmeg and served with diced apples and sultana grapes – was served a short while later, though Harry ate little of his, already feeling stuffed from the main course, but little Jimmy, bless him, tucked it all away with gusto, though soon regretted it as he was overstuffed; he was now groaning miserably, despite the grin he was sporting. Mr. Crouch found this especially amusing and he laughed heartily, slapping little Jimmy on the back gently in an affectionate manner that made Barty scowl darkly.

After dinner, they retired to the lounge where Winky served tea and coffee. Harry accepted a cup and added cream and honey, and sat sipping quietly while the adults spoke together on two couches and Jimmy fell asleep in a chair near the fire. Barty was off at the back of the room at a little table on which sat a chess board. Harry joined him with a small smile by way of greeting.

"You play?" he asked, gesturing the board, silently and wandlessly casting a Muffliato Charm around them with the motion – a trick he had learned from Severus Snape, who had invented the spell while at Hogwarts as a student – along with a mild notice-me-not charm.

Barty nodded. "Occasionally. Care for a game?"

Harry nodded his assent.

"I'm Bartemius Crouch, Jr. by the way," Barty said. "You can call me Barty."

Harry nodded, grinning at the false formality. "Harrald James Potter. You can call me Harry."

"Well, Harry, I feel I must apologize for my father. He may be a shrewd diplomat and politician, but he is all but worthless when it comes to regular social settings." He moved one of his pawns forward two spaces to open the game.

Harry shrugged. "I don't mind it so much. I've had to answer more questions since coming back from the dead than I ever did in the years before." He moved his knight.

"Must be annoying." He stopped for a moment then whispered. "Please tell me you cast some charms around us so I can cut it with this false pleasantry crap."

Harry chuckled. "Yes, Barty, I did. Speak freely, they can't hear us. Or really even see us."

Barty sighed in relief. "Well, thank the gods for that. D'you have any idea how bloody difficult it is to act like I didn't know you?"

Harry smirked. "Probably about as hard as it was for me to act like this was the first time I'd ever met _you_."

Barty cocked his head. "Eh. Yeah, point taken." He moved another piece. "So, how's 'Operation: Kickin-in-the-Dore' coming along?"

Harry shrugged. "It's going. I'm close to him, but I haven't had a good opportunity. I mean, I could curse him in his office but I'd then have to fight my way out because I'm quite certain every damned portrait in the castle would be sounding the alarm. Not something I look forward to."

"Well, it's not like you haven't been in tighter spots," Barty said.

Harry snorted. "I don't think any of our previous escapades even come close to having to kill the Greatest Wizard Alive."

"Ah, but you're the Boy-Who-Lived, surviving when you shouldn't is your specialty." He pronounced specialty as 'spe-shi-al-ity'.

"You taking the piss?" Harry demanded. "It's bad enough that one of my friends at school and her father both seem to think I'm some risen hero, but you?"

Barty sniggered. "You have friends?"

Harry glared. "You're an Arse."

Barty grinned. "Well, of course you have me, but who else would willingly put up with your sour self?" He chuckled. "Lucy tells me that Draco's been telling him that you've been hanging around with Xeno Lovegood's girl and a Mudblood."

Harry shot Barty a sharp glance. "Don't call her that," he snapped.

Barty raised a brow at this. "Oh, so it is true then. But, dear me, such a strong reaction. Don't tell me Harry 'Heart-of-Stone' Potter has fallen in love. Why the Pureblood virgins will be heartbroken. So tragic."

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair, ignoring Barty's antics. "Hermione isn't a Mudblood, Barty. Yes, she is Muggleborn, but she possesses greater magical skill than any Pureblood her age, and several older besides that. She has my respect and is above reproach in that regard."

Barty nodded. "Not unlike yourself, really. You being a Halfblood and all. Hel, even your mum over there was offered a place in Pureblood society for her talents, but _she_ turned it down. Let's hope your little friend doesn't make that mistake."

Harry nodded but said nothing. He was secretly thinking the same thing.

"Hermione, huh? Wouldn't happen to be the same Hermione that associates with the Order would it? Granger or something like that?"

Harry nodded. "The same. My parents are her magical guardians. She's going to be joining us on Boxing Day."

"Well, I would suggest, if you're as serious about her as I think you are, that you be careful." Barty took Harry's bishop with his knight. "You don't want to end up like me."

Harry was going to make a joke, but realized that Barty was being serious. "We'll see how things go," he said diplomatically. "So, your mother looks rather ill."

Barty's expression darkened. "Yeah. She's always been like that. It comes and goes. I don't like it though. It's different this time. Worse."

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"Don't know," Barty admitted. "We've taken her to St. Mungos and they can't find anything wrong with her. In past they've just given her various potions to boost her immune system and give her back some strength. They aren't doing much good now though. She's only up and going right now because she took her potions just before you all arrived, at double the normal dose."

Harry looked at his friend with some sympathy. He didn't know what else to say, so he stayed silent.

It was Barty who broke the long silence. "So, heard you got attacked by a werewolf."

Harry snorted. "Heard about that? Yeah. Bastard got me good with his claws." He patted his side. "Right here. Four good cuts. Damn near died. I was unconscious in the Hospital Wing for a bloody week."

"A week?" Barty guffawed. "Blimey. After all the fighting we've done, it's a bloody scratch that nearly takes you down. I'm honestly starting to wonder if anything will actually kill you."

Harry snorted. "I'm not a god, Barty. I'm just a man, like you. I'll find my death someday, and I won't despair when it comes." Barty shook his head at this, but said nothing. "Thank you for the raven, by the way. I called him Rune."

Barty laughed. "Rune? It's because of that little mark on his head isn't it? That's why I picked that one. I mean, what with you being a viking and all."

"About that," Harry said, "turns out I'm named after my ancestor, Hardwin, who built Potter Hall, which was a Saxon longhouse, and his great grandfather was a Saxon. So yes, in a way, I am sort of like that. Just not really. Viking was a profession after all, not a people."

Barty waved this off. "Details."

"Checkmate," Harry countered.

Barty looked at the board. "What? No way. Bollocks.

Harry leaned forward now, his face deadly serious. "Barty, you haven't heard anything going through the ranks about what we saw Draco and Lucius doing in Knockturn Alley have you?"

Barty shook his head. "Not even a whisper. You'd think something would get out about it, what with Lucius and Bellatrix both being involved. But no. Absolutely nothing other than that Lucius had that cabinet moved to the Manor."

"Did you know that Draco was given the Mark?" Harry asked.

Barty's eyes went wide. "Draco? Wearing the Mark? I have the sudden desire to cut my left arm off." He looked down at it as if he were actually considering doing it then and there. "What's a little scab like him done to earn that right?"

"I don't know," Harry conceded, "but I know he is definitely up to something. I found the second vanishing cabinet."

"Where is it?" Barty asked.

"Hogwarts."

"Well, that doesn't bode well now does it?" Barty growled under his breath in frustration.

"It damaged though. I think Draco's been trying to repair it, but the bastard was never any good with Runes so the process is slow going," Harry told him.

"Why would Draco be trying to get a vanishing cabinet inside Hogwarts working again?" Barty wondered. "You don't think...no, he wouldn't be doing that...then again...nah, wouldn't make sense...well, it kind of makes sense...but why would he...bah."

Harry scowled. "You mind filling me in on whatever seems to have divided you?"

Barty tousled his hair agitatedly. "Ahh. Well, I was thinking that Draco could be trying to make a way for an outside group to get inside Hogwarts without having to worry about the wards. But that would mean that more than just his dad and aunt were involved and something like that would require the blessing of Lord Voldemort himself, which would go against his orders for you to kill Dumbledore, unless they're supposed to get in and help you get out, but that wouldn't make any sense as he hasn't told you anything about it, which makes me think that they don't want you to know about it."

Harry frowned. "You think they're working against me?" he asked seriously.

Barty growled again. "I honestly don't know, mate. If they are, then the real question is 'why'? What reason would they have for doing it. And that in turn begs another question. If they are, what are you going to do about it?"

Harry leaned back in his chair. "You know me well enough to know the answer to that question, Barty."

Barty hung his head. "I was afraid you'd say that. Bollocks. Guess I should get used to having a target on my back. People who try to kill you usually end up trying to kill me too, you know." He puffed out his cheeks as he exhaled. "Alright. I'll keep my ear to the ground and see what I can find out. If I learn anything, I'll send you a letter."

Harry caught movement out of the corner of his eye and noticed that James was picking up the sleeping Jimmy, so he deduced that it was time to leave. He quickly canceled his charms after motioning the situation to Barty.

He stood up and shook Barty's hand, thanking him for the game of chess and then went to follow everyone out into the foyer again.

Jimmy had woken up enough to go through the floo without much issue and Lily followed close behind after bidding their hosts farewell and thanking them for having them over. James shook Bartemius' hand and did the same to Barty before following his wife through. Harry shook Mr. Crouch's hand and smiled at him, and then lightly shook Mrs. Crouch's hand as well.

He shook Barty's last. "Keep your head down, mate," Barty whispered as his parents walked away, Mr. Crouch supporting an ever-weakening Mrs. Crouch.

Harry smiled grimly. "You too, Hangman."

Barty chortled at this but his pride in his own work was clearly shining through.

 **XXXX**

The next day – the day before Christmas Eve – was just as trying. James was required to attend a dinner and party at the Ministry with his fellow Aurors; apparently the Aurors annually held a faculty Christmas Party in the Auror offices; though it was for the entire Department for Magical Law Enforcement, not just the Aurors, despite the location.

Of course, this meant that Harry and Jimmy had to tag along with their parents. It was not required, as Jimmy pointed that he had never actually been allowed to go until now, and Harry deduced that this was just another way for James to keep an eye on him. If he had not been required to go, Harry could have easily slipped out of the house and caused some mischief; he was just itching to fight or kill something out of sheer boredom. He was repelled with his inactivity and stagnation.

However, James' paranoia had gotten the better of the situation and thus Harry found himself once again standing in front of he floo, waiting for the rest of the family. Harry had decided that he would rather dress in his regular clothes this time and thus had not even bothered to change. He was impatiently tapping his foot and checking his silver watch every few minutes.

Finally, as with the day before, Jimmy arrived, then his parents. James led the way this time and Harry was the last one through the floo.

When he stepped out he found himself in a wide open room made of dark stone walls and black marble floors. Harry like it.

"This is the Atrium," James was telling Jimmy. "When we come to work, this is where everyone arrives. On a normal day this place is practically buzzing with activity. Like a hive of bees."

Harry noted that there were at least twenty fireplaces lining each side of the room for floo entry.

"Visitors come in through the Muggle world, a phone-booth up on the street. They come through that little workstation over there and have their wands tagged in and out. Helps us keep track of who enters and leaves that doesn't work here."

As they were talking Harry noticed a large fountain with an even larger statue in the center. A witch and wizard holding their wands to the heavens with a steady stream of water flowing out of the tips. At their feet were a House Elf, a Centaur and a Goblin, who were all looking up at the two human magic wielders with unmasked looks of admiration that bordered on outright worship.

Harry scowled. While such a look might seem par for the course when it came to House Elves, or at least those that were treated well – like Dobby – the rest were prouder species and not all too fond of humans of any sort. While this was meant as a sort of show-of-power by the witches and wizards of the land, as proclamation that they were superior to these other sentient beings, Harry found it to be rather bold and arrogant. While it was true that Goblins had been soundly defeated several times by wizards, the Centaurs were a different story and many a witch or wizard had lost their lives to the tribal hunter species and they were notoriously difficult to control.

Harry also doubted that the Centaurs would take kindly to being featured on the statue at all. From what he understood, they wanted nothing to do with human society and had rejected all attempts to get them involved in the politics of the world. They preferred to keep to themselves in their forest homes. They were different from humans, and knew this, and rejoiced in it, and preferred to keep it that way. And any who dared associate with humans beyond a certain extent were exiled and looked upon with shame and disgust. In the human world this sort of mindset and manner would be called racist or bigoted and those who opposed it claimed there was only one race: the 'human race'. Harry found this to be ignorant and misleading. There was no such thing as a 'human race'. Humans are not a race; they are a _species_ , and thus, like dogs or any other species, the different 'races' were actually breeds. The concept of 'race' was a mere ploy to try and differentiate humans from beasts, when most tend to forget that human _are_ beasts.

During the time it took Harry to think all of this, they had come to a lift, which they all stepped into and James touched a Rune on a small panel and the lift closed before going down.

They exited on Level Two, Department for Magical Law Enforcement. James led them through a hall where then then moved through a set of double doors that opened up into a wide, open office space with rows of dark wooden desks. Or at least that's what it would have been had the desks not all been moved to the sides of the room and cleared off to allow the placement of various food and drinks. In the center of all of this was a milling crowd of people in various states of formal wear; There was even man in brightly colored African robes and a girl in Muggle-style jeans and shirt with pink hair darting through the crowd with a couple pints in her hands.

"Ah, James! There you are!" Sirius shouted, catching sight of them. "We were beginning to worry. Brought the little fawns, I see."

James looked a bit embarrassed. "Yes. We were running a bit behind schedule."

Harry snorted. "You were. I waited by the floo for twenty minutes before you all decided to show up."

James frowned at Harry but he ignored it. Sirius just laughed and slapped James on the back. "Not letting you get away with covering your own arse now is he? Reminds me of his mum when we were all that age. Hello, Lily." Sirius gave Lily a one armed hug.

"Hello, Sirius," Lily smiled as the man released her.

"Its been a while," Sirius said, smiling at James and Lily.

"Its been three days," Lily countered.

Sirius put on a long-suffering expression. "Yes...I've been so lonely."

Lily rolled her eyes while James chuckled, returning the back slap. "I highly doubt that, Sirius. You've probably been with your lady friend. The redhead, what was her name?"

"Celia," Sirius answered with a grimace.

James nodded. "Yes, that one. I'm sure you had plenty of _company_ with her around."

Sirius groaned. "She won't _leave_ , James!" He was practically whining.

Harry didn't bother listening after that, and instead was watching Jimmy, who had used the distraction of Sirius to sneak off to the food table and was stealing various sweets. He moved over to his little brother though when he saw the boy trying to take a pink of ale off one of the tables.

Harry smoothly took the pint from him and drained it himself, ignoring Jimmy's indignant "Hey!".

Jimmy punched him in the arm. "That was mine!"

Harry smirked at him, then looked over his head, nodding to the pink-haired witch as she walked by and winked at him in a flirtatious manner; he didn't know who she was, but she acted like she knew him and that was unnerving. He looked back to Jimmy, who seemed not to notice the short exchange. "Now, now, we both know that you aren't old enough to drink this stuff yet." Jimmy's face was going a bit red now. "But, I'll make a deal with you. If you give me that treacle tart you have there, I'll turn my back to further attempts."

Jimmy didn't hesitate and pushed the dish into Harry's hand. "Deal!"

Harry sniggered. "If you get caught though, in this room full of Aurors, or gods forbid, by mum, you're on your own."

Jimmy was holding a new pint in both hands, grinning like a mad man. "Yeah, yeah. I got it." He wasn't really listening and instead dropped down and hid under the tables with his prize.

Harry shook his head at the boy's antics and fetched a utensil so that he could eat his own prize.

When he had finished his treat, he set the dish down, where it promptly disappeared. He idly wondered if the Ministry had its own House Elves.

"We don't," a somewhat soft voice said to his right. Harry turned and found himself looking at a man in his mid thirties with long dark hair and an equally dark beard. His voice had an odd lilting quality to it that was equal parts soothing and threatening, while also telling of great intelligence. He was dressed in a less than formal fashion with dark brown dragon-hide pants and boots as well as a vest made of the same material. Over this he had a dark blue coat. There was a rather large dagger hanging from his belt and Harry suspected that he had at least one wand hidden somewhere on his person. "You were wondering if we had House Elves. We don't. The Ministry doesn't allow them inside the building, despite their usefulness."

Harry frowned. "Seems a bit counterproductive."

The man laughed. "Indeed it does. Not to mention a tad arrogant. They are included on the Statue of Magical Brethren after all, and yet banned from even setting foot withing the Ministry. Doesn't make much sense does it." He looked apologetic. "Forgive me, where are my manners. I am Sasha Savage, senior Auror and deputy head of the Auror force."

Harry shook his offered hand. "Harry Potter, apprentice Professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Savage smiled genially. "Quite a mouthful there, Mr. Potter."

Harry shrugged. "Yeah, probably should have left off the full name of the school. So, you say that House Elves aren't allowed inside, but weren't some used as witnesses recently in the death of Madam Bones and her family?"

Savage nodded. "Yes, they were. I myself am handling that particular case. The testimony of a House Elf may not be admissible at trial but if what they saw can point me in the right direction I don't care what the Wizengamot thinks. I am more than bothered that the details of our investigation got out to the public. We had hoped to keep it low-key. But the murder of such an important public and political figure is big news so I suppose I should have seen it coming. You, of course, will know all about having your every move reported on."

Harry was confused. "Um, no. Actually I don't."

Savage raised a brow. "You do not read the Prophet then?"

Harry shook his head. "Not really no. Why?"

"At least once a week they run a story on you and your personal life at Hogwarts," Savage told him. "I believe the latest one was by Rita Skeeter – vile woman – detailing a supposed secret romance with one of your students. A Miss Hermione Granger, I believe."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Beg pardon?"

Savage nodded. "Yes, quite a sensational piece. Claims that your relationship is a, if you'll excuse the vulgarity, a sex for favors sort of arrangement. And by favors she implies that you give her high marks so that she can remain top of her class over better-deserving students."

Harry was practically seething. "What rubbish. I can assure you, sir, that I am not engaged in any such relationship at all with anyone."

Savage appeared amused. "Dear boy, I never said I believed her. I am merely conveying what has been written. Besides, even I were here in a professional capacity, I could do nothing regardless. Both you and Miss Granger are of legal age and that means I could do nothing. And as far as falsifying grades, _that_ is a matter for review by the Headmaster. But seeing as you are only an Apprentice Professor, you do not give the final grades, so this is all of moot point to begin with, Now on the other hand, If you would like to bring action against her for libel, then I think I could help, you could issue a complaint and I would see it served. Again, I do apologize for being so forward."

Harry took a deep breath. "Sorry. It's just that Hermione is a close friend and I do not take kindly to someone dragging her name through the mud."

Savage nodded. "Most understandable. I shall send a cease and desist to the Prophet, and to Miss Skeeter in particular on your behalf. Think of it as a welcoming home gift."

Harry thanked the man. "So," he started, changing the subject. "You are the Senior Auror here?"

He nodded. "I also co-head the Anti-Death Eater Task Force with Alastor Moody. Your father and godfather are part of that team."

Harry raised a brow. "Really? He failed to mention that. He hasn't told me much about his work so that may explain why."

Savage nodded to concede the fact. "Yes, they're good men. Top-notch fighters and loyal to a fault."

Then why did he abandon me? Harry asked silently. Outwardly he said. "I don't doubt it."

Savage smiled. "I believe that some of this may change soon. With Madam Bones gone, we are in need of a new Head of Department. Most believe it will be Head Auror Scrimgeour who will step up, while others are calling for the return of Bartemius Crouch. If Rufus, that is to say Scrimgeour, takes the place, I or Moody will be promoted to Head Auror and the other will be left to handle the Task Force alone, but if Crouch returns then things continue as normal here. I'm not sure which I would prefer to be honest."

"So, you and Moody are the only Senior Aurors then?" Harry asked.

Savage shook his head. "There's Dawlish too. He's been here longer than I, but he is a tad on the weak-minded side. Not to say that he isn't intelligent, just that he is highly susceptible to mind magics. Has weak Occlumency shields and all that. Not really suited for the role of Head Auror. Competent fighter though." He looked passed Harry. "And speaking of competent fighters, Robards, come here!"

Harry and Savage were then joined by a tall, slender man in his early thirties with short messy blond hair and a layer of stubble on his face. He wore a simple white button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbow and a plain black tie; his pants and rugged boots were also black. "You called, mate?" he asked in a distinctly Welsh accent, taking a swig of the dark beer in his hand.

"Gawain, this is Harry Potter, Apprentice Professor of Defense at Hogwarts," Savage introduced.

Robards sized him before extending his hand. Harry shook it. "Gawain Robards," he said. "Auror, detective and Master of the Dark Arts."

Savage raised an eyebrow at this. "Master of the Dark Arts is it now?" Amusement was evident. It would seem that this was a common claim made by this Welshman.

Robards took another swig of beer. "Did I say 'master'? I meant 'petty dabbler'." He looked at Harry with a smirk. "I hate to put on airs."

Savage shook his head. "Robards here is a member of my Task Force. He is our resident expert on the Dark Arts and Dark Creatures."

Harry looked at the Welshman. "Dabbler? Does that mean that you actually _use_ the Dark Arts?"

Robards smirked. "The only way to really understand something is to get a taste of it, yeah? Well, let's just say I like to dip myself in the Dark." He chuckled at Harry's slightly disturbed face at his word choice.

"It is Robards whom we turn to to understand the nature and uses of various Dark Magic," Savage explained.

Harry, though all of this was useful information to him, was a bit confused as to why he was being told all of this. So, he decided to voice this question. "Why are you telling me all of this?"

Savage looked hint embarrassed. "Ah, forgive me, I had forgotten that I had not spoken of this yet. I was hoping to extend to you an invitation to join our ranks after your finish your year at Hogwarts. We could always use more capable recruits. I've seen your scores and you are more than qualified for the training."

Harry was surprised, but he didn't show it. "Me, an Auror? I'm not sure I'm cut out for that sort of work."

Savage smirked. "Come now, Mr. Potter, I seriously doubt that. As I said, your scores on both your OWLs and your NEWTs say otherwise."

Harry was saved from having to say any more by the arrival of his mother and father, along with Sirius and three other men. "Well, looks like the gang's all here," Robards said. "Sirius, good to see you, mate."

"Sasha," James said, looking at Savage with some degree of surprise. "I'm shocked to see you here."

Savage grimaced. "Indeed I would not be had Moody not dragged me in. In his own words he said that if he had to come and endure the ceaseless yammering of lickspittle bureaucrats, then so did I." He turned to Harry again. "Well, now that they're all here, allow me to introduce you to the rest of the team, with the exception of Alastor, who I believe is over their in the corner scowling at everyone." Harry followed his gaze and saw a rather rough looking wizard with one leg and a fake eye that darted around in every direction seemingly of its own accord. "This is Rohan Williamson," he indicated an older man with chin-length greying black hair and a beard, his cheeks scarred on either side of his mouth - a Glasgow Smile.

"How d'you do?" Williamson asked, and Harry noted that he was more than likely Scottish, base on his very clear brogue.

"And these two are the Lynch brothers, Damian and Ray," he gestured to the other two men in turn. The first, Damian, had short brown hair and a clean-shaven face and perhaps the most startlingly blue eyes Harry had ever seen on a human being; appeared to be the elder of the two. The second, Ray, was darker haired and wore it short and messy, and his face looked like he hadn't shaved for a few days. Both wore matching suits of black jackets, slacks and waistcoats over white shirts. When they spoke Harry could hear very clear Irish accents. And both had a beer in their hands.

Harry shook hands with each of them in turn, introducing himself as he did.

"Harry, have you see your brother?" Lily asked, looking around worriedly.

Harry noticed a hand snake out from under the desk and snag another ale before disappearing again. Harry shook his head. "No."

Lily increased her vigilance.

"Calm down, Lily. He's in a room with the entire Department for Magical Law Enforcement, he'll be fine," James said. Lily didn't look convinced.

"So, what's this I hear about the Americans sending some of their men over to help out with You-Know-Who?" Williamson asked.

"Oh, come on now, Rohan, we talked about this. None of that 'You-Know-Who' rubbish, mate," Robards complained. "It's not manly."

"We were just talking about that," Damian said, pointing to his brother and cutting off any response from Williamson. He looked at Savage. "What's the word, Sash?"

Savage frowned at having his name shortened to that of a piece of fabric. "Rufus told me that they're sending two of theirs over to join the Task Force."

"Only two?" Ray asked. "What the fuck good do they think that'll do?"

Savage shrugged. "I don't know, but it's that cousin of yours they're sending."

Damian and Jimmy traded looks. "Which one?" Ray asked.

"David Graves," Savage answered.

"Oh, their sending little Davy," Ray scoffed. "Didn't know he had even finished school."

Savage smirked. "Apparently, your great-uncle, the President, wants him to get some experience working with a team. He's also sending one of his Senior Aurors, a man by the name of Proudfoot, to keep an eye on him."

Damian hummed. "I've heard of Proudfoot. About like our Moody. Tough as nails and always paranoid." He shrugged. "If it keeps him alive, I've nothing against the bloke sniffing his bangers before he eats 'em."

Ray, Gawain and Rohan all laughed at this, but Savage just smiled. "Well, if he's even half as good as Moody, then he'll be a valued addition to our team."

It was at this moment that a solid thumping noise was heard and they all turned to find Moody limping toward them with a long wooden staff in his hand and his magical eye darting around at each of them. Speak of the devil and he shall appear, Harry thought. Moody's gaze settled on Harry for a moment and Harry saw the eye dart down to where his Dark Mark was hidden by his sleeves. Could his eye see through clothes?

"Is that your boy?" Moody growled.

James nodded. "Yes, this is Harry. Harry, this is Alastor Moody."

Harry nodded to him. "Hello, sir."

Moody looked him over. "Hmm, good build, wand safely holstered in your sleeve, not kept in your back pocket like most dunderheads your age." He shot a look at James and Sirius. "Good lad," he said to Harry. Well that answered the question of the eye. "But, I wasn't referring to him." He clunked over and lifted the cloth of one of the tables to reveal Jimmy sitting there with three empty pints laying around him and a glazed look in his eyes.

Lily was horrified. "JAMES FLEAMONT POTTER!" she screeched. "WHAT IN THE DEVIL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?"

Jimmy just hiccupped in response and grinned.

James and Sirius were doing their best to keep a straight face while Lily pulled her youngest son out from his hiding place.

"Cheers, mate," Robards said, tipping his own bottle in Jimmy's direction with a smirk before taking a swig. The younger Lynch brother joined him.

Lily glared at the Welshman. "Do _not_ encourage him," she snapped, making Robards avert his gaze, lest she burn him alive.

"Come on, love, let him live a little. It's not like his father was any better at his age."

James scowled at Robards. "Who's side are you on?"

Robards shrugged and took another swig of his own brew. "Who said anything about taking sides?"

"I'm taking him home," Lily said, carrying the drunken boy. She stopped in front of James and poked him in the chest. "He's right you know. This is your influence. And you," she pointed at Sirius, who had begun sniggering at his best friend getting told off. "Don't act like you're innocent in this either."

"I'll take him, mum," Harry said, lifting the boy away from her, deciding it best to beat a hasty retreat before she set in on him too. "You stay and enjoy the party. And by enjoy the party I mean 'make sure dad and Sirius don't'." he grinned at the two men, who were now scowling at him, as Lily thanked him. Harry waved cheekily at them as he carried Jimmy away after saying goodbye to the gathered Aurors. As he was leaving, Harry could have sworn he heard Moody grumble, "Smart kid."

He took Jimmy back to the Manor and put him in his bed. The lad was out like a doused lamp as soon as his head hit the pillow.

 **XXXX**

Christmas Day was rather uneventful as far as Harry was concerned - though he did receive his very own Firebolt from his parents, complete with his name engraved into the handle. Sirius and Remus had arrived on Christmas Eve and despite Remus' worst fears, he was greeted with love and affection all around, except from Harry, who simply shook his hand. But James had given him a hug, and Lily had taken it a step further and planted a tender kiss on his stubble-coated cheek, causing the werewolf to blush a furious red; they also gifted him with several new sets of robes and other clothing articles, which made the man glow with both shame and joy in equal measure. Harry got the impression just from the body language that Remus had probably at some point harbored romantic feelings for his mother; Sirius too, probably. But James had been her choice in the end; Harry didn't understand it, but then again he didn't understand a lot of things when it came to feelings of love and affection.

He recognized them when he saw them, but not when he felt them, and he knew how to use it against someone, but he did not quite grasp what it was about it that made people willing to die for it. Dying for pride, honor, glory, all of this he understood, but for love...no. Not yet.

Perhaps it was because he had never truly felt love that he was so adverse to it and had no real concept of it. Voldemort, for all that he had raised him, trained him, taught him, he had never been what one could call a loving father figure. Quite the contrary in fact. He was fair and sometimes gentle, but there was always an underlying sinister feel to it all. It was as if he was playing a part, a character, until such a time that it was no longer needed. Even in recent years as Harry had begun to come into his own the Dark Lord would sometimes slip into this act and Harry found it to be more than a little unnerving and no little amount frustrating.

Harry had no doubts that Voldemort believed that in doing this he would ingratiate Harry to him, and keep him subservient. But under such coddling, Harry had steadily grown resentful of the Dark Lord. Now, as the final evolution of this, he was making plans with the enemy to ultimately destroy Voldemort and any who stood with him. Quite a large leap from frustration and resentment to hate, and he couldn't quite explain where it had come from but he knew that it felt somehow familiar to feel this way.

Also with them had been Andromeda 'Andi' and Edward 'Ted' Tonks, as well as their only child Nymphadora, who preferred to just be called Tonks, despite the annoyance of her family at the childishness of this. Of course, Harry insisted on calling her by her full name, much to her own annoyance.

He looked around at those gathered there now. It was late and Jimmy was falling asleep with a plate of cookies in his lap; Sirius and Remus were playing a game of chess over a bottle of Ogden's; Lily was in the kitchen snacking on some leftover pork from dinner while chatting amiably with Andromeda; James was in the corner looking over the files of the two American Aurors that would be arriving with the New Year; Ted was sitting off in another corner dozing with a muggle magazine laying open on his chest; and Nymphadora was occupying herself with filching Jimmy's cookies from under his nose.

James had still not forgiven Harry for throwing them to the wolf, who in this case would be Lily, but Sirius thought it was a great prank in hindsight, and Remus seconded this when he was told about it.

Harry, for his part, was sitting in front of the fire, as far away from the others as could be managed while still being in the same room – which was quite large when taken into consideration – and was now looking into the flames as he was wont to do of late. Of course he was deep in thought now, as tended to be the case when he did this.

What was on his mind now was the twin tasks that lay before him. Two deaths that it was his duty to deliver. There was Dumbledore, who had long been a target of the Dark Lord's, and though Voldemort would never admit it even to himself, he was afraid of the elder wizard. Then there was the Dark Lord himself. Harry knew, as he had been previously thinking, that in order to grow and become greater he would have to destroy Voldemort. It just seemed that the Dark Lord was making that task a lot harder than it should be. And that was another point of contention with Harry.

The Horcruxes. Half of the six that Dumbledore suspected him of making were accounted for, but they had no idea where else to look, or even what to look _for_. A Diary, a Ring, and a Diadem. Was there anything they had in common? The Diary had belong to Voldemort as a teenager, when he still went by the name of Tom Riddle; the Ring had belonged to his family on his mother's side; the Diadem though was a relic of Ravenclaw, and Tom had been a Slytherin. He could see no connection to this item whatsoever. The first two, yes, but not the third. So perhaps there was no real pattern or rhyme or reason to the selected items, or perhaps there was and it could only be seen once they were all assembled.

He sighed and ran a hand through is hair, mussing it up a bit in the process. Such items were revolting, even to him, who had no qualms about using the Dark Arts or the Unforgivable Curses. It was because he respected and even honored death. He always had. Ever since he had taken his first life he had had a healthy respect for death. And he chalked his lack of fear of it up to seeing Walburga Black accept it without any fear or regret. In fact, he knew that that moment had taught him much about both life and death. There came a time when one lost their will to keep going, or their bodies were too weak to contain their soul any longer. Walburga had chosen to meet her death with some dignity, as anyone should. She did not cry, or plead, or beg for more time. She embraced death as a friend, just as the third brother had done in the Tale of the Three Brothers.

The Tale was another thing that had made an impact on Harry, just not in the way that it had Voldemort, who had introduced him to the story. Where Voldemort saw a means to be greater than death, Harry knew that there was no such thing. Nothing was beyond the reach of death, and nothing stood greater than it. Not even a god, which is what one would essentially become if they gathered the Hallows – if they even existed. No, what Harry saw in that Tale was just that; death would come whether you wanted it or not, and it was best to embrace it when it came rather than cry and fight like a weak, foolish child. And that was what Voldemort was, essentially: a child, afraid of the dark.

But not Harry. He did not fear the dark, he cloaked himself in it, let it sooth and nurture him. He was a child of the darkness, born in it, molded by it. He shunned the light, and its harshness. The light may reveal the physical attributes of everything it touched, displayed clearly the surface, but in the darkness, one found their true selves; who they became when nothing could see them. This was evident in the way Dumbledore and the others trusted the image he put forth for them to see, the false exterior he showed them. They had lived in the light for so long that he doubted that could even remember that there was more to a person than what they showed you, hidden away in the darkness of their hearts and minds.

Then there was someone like Luna, who, despite living in the light, could see past that and into the shadows. Harry knew that she could see more of him than she let on. What she saw, and what she thought of it were unknown but the mere fact that she had not sold him out spoke volumes.

Hermione, on the other hand did not see the real him. He wished that she could, but at the same time he was glad that she could not. He didn't think he could bear to see the horror and disappointment in her eyes if she knew what he truly was. There were times, when he got like this, so long inside himself that he would come back to the present to find her looking at him with a bit of worry or even apprehension.

Those moments were like a physical pain. Whatever she saw in his eyes during those moments scared her and he knew it. He was more than a little surprised that she had stuck around as long as she had, and he was thankful as well. She was his first friend outside of Barty, and he didn't want to lose that, even though he knew that he would someday do so. He could feel his chest clench at the thought of her turning against him when she discovered just who and what he was. He was a monster, a demon, a bringer of death. It was in his blood and in his soul, and he could not change it, nor did he wish to.

Lily must have seen his inner turmoil because he was pulled out of his thoughts by the feeling of a gentle hand on his shoulder. "You all right, Harry?" she asked softly, motherly concern in her eyes.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, just a lot on my mind."

She smiled sympathetically at him, sitting on the arm of the chair he was in. "You want to talk about it?"

Harry shook his head. "Not really." He sighed and found himself speaking anyway, despite what he had just said. "It's just...I don't know who I am anymore. I mean, I know _who_ I am, but there's so much that's changed since coming here and I'm having difficulty reconciling it all with who I was before."

"Like what?" Lily asked.

"Like all of this," he gestured her and the house around them. "I never had this. I never had a real family. I had the man who raised me and couple of his associates. That's it. Now, I have a mother, and a father, and a brother. I have a godfather. I have uncles. I have friends..."

Lily smiled gently at him. "I take it a certain witch we both know is at the center of this dilemma."

Harry nodded, almost imperceptibly. "I've never felt these things before...it scares the living hell out of me."

Lily laughed lightly. "That's to be expected, Harry. Everyone is scared of love at first."

Harry turned up to her sharply, eyes widening against his will. "Love? Is that what this is?"

Lily laughed again. "Well, I don't know about that. It would be a bit soon for something like that to have developed. But who knows, it could be starting of such." She stood up, patting his shoulder soothingly. "Don't worry yourself too much about it. Just let things unfold as they will."

Harry nodded. It was good advise. After all, the future was always in flux - but also fixed at certain points - and worrying about what was yet to come would do him no good right now. He could make plans, but there was no guarantee that those plans would survive beyond the next day. It was like they said, no battle-plan survives first contact with the enemy.

"You're right. Thank you," he said, forcing a smile.

She smiled knowingly at him and walked over to where her husband was sitting. Sirius and Remus had finished their game, apparently with Remus the victor and both were now sharing a drink with their best friends.

Harry looked into the fire again, watching the dancing images he could see there. What they were, and what they meant he could not tell, but they were there nonetheless, and for he time being, he just enjoyed watching them dance.

 **XXXX**

 **A/N: Another chapter down. Holy Hel, this chapter is LONG! I hope you all enjoyed it. I did. I was so glad to write Barty again. I missed him quite a bit.**

 **Chapter fueled by lots of coffee and more than a little Trans-Siberian Orchestra. And coffee; did I mention coffee?**

 **Now, THANK YOU to all who reviewed, favorited and followed. You guys are awesome.**

 **Now, I introduced a lot of new characters in this chapter, all of whom will become important later. The Anti-Death Eater Task Force is going to play a significant role in this story so I hope that they were to all your liking.**

 **When I write, I imagine the characters how I would cast them in a film. The main characters are of course up to you, I just default to the film versions for the most part. But these characters, some of who are based on minor characters from the books, and others that are creations of my own, all have a specific casting in mind. I'll list it here:**

 **Sasha Savage; based off of the Auror Savage, mentioned in the Half-Blood Prince. (Actor: Casper Crump. Ex: Vandal Savage in Legends of Tomorrow)**

 **Gawain Robards; Auror mentioned in the Half-Blood Prince, eventually became Head Auror before Harry replaced him in canon. (Actor: Matt Ryan. Ex: John Constantine in Constantine and Arrow)**

 **Rohan Williamson; an Auror mentioned in Order of the Phoenix by last name only. (Actor: Tommy Flanagan. Ex: Chibs in Sons of Anarchy)**

 **Wilson Proudfoot; an Auror mentioned in Half-Blood Prince by surname only. I made him American in this. (Actor: Norman Reedus. Ex: Russel Welch in Triple 9/Daryl Dixon in The Walking Dead)**

 **David 'Davy' Graves; an OC created for this story. Grandson of Percival Graves from Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find them, who is now President of the Magical Congress of the United States of America. (Actor: Jake Gyllenhaal. Ex: Detective Loki in Prisoners)**

 **Damian Lynch; Irish Auror created for a previous story of mine that was deleted. He was decently well received then so I decided to bring him back and make him the grand-nephew of Percival Graves along with his brother and cousin to David Graves.. (Actor: Cillian Murphy. Ex: Thomas Shelby in Peaky Blinders)**

 **Raymond 'Ray' Lynch; Irish Auror created for this story. Younger brother of Damian. (Actor: Colin Farrell. Ex: Ray in In Bruges)**

 **Well, there it is. This is how I imagine them. You're welcome to imagine them as you will, but this is what's in my head.**

 **As always: Leave me some love in the reviews, or some constructive criticism. Whichever.**

 **Until next time.**

 **-Atrocity.**


	16. The White Wyvern

**XVI. The White Wyvern**

Harry awoke the next morning feeling quite rested. He laid there replaying the conversations with his mum over and over in his head. She was right, he decided again. He would be best suited just letting things unfold as they would. He could not change who he was and he could not change who Hermione was, nor did he wish to.

Harry hummed to himself as he lay there, eyes still closed. He froze when there was a low, steady rumbling noise in return. He perked up his senses and became aware of a heavy weight sitting on his chest. How had he not noticed that before? He wasn't sure, but now that he did, he was almost concerned.

He slowly opened his eyes and found himself face-to-face with perhaps the biggest, ugliest ginger cat he, or anyone, had ever laid eyes on. His eyes widened and he held his breath, not daring to move, lest it attack.

 _Meow._

He couldn't stop his initial reaction he let out a small scream and tried to scramble away and in the process only managed to throw himself sideways off the bed.

Pleasant laughter filled the room, joined a moment later by Rune cawing in a manner that sounded far too suspiciously like he was mocking him.

Harry picked himself up off the floor and looked toward the source of the laughter. Hermione was sitting in his desk chair, a book open in her lap, one hand raised to her mouth trying to stifle her giggles and her cheeks stained pleasantly pink. Harry wouldn't admit it aloud, but he thought that she looked beautiful and unbearable cute in that moment.

Harry mock glared at her and she somehow managed to get herself under control, though her eyes still shone with joyous mirth and happy tears.

Harry scowled, though his heart wasn't in it.. "Blimey, Hermione! You trying to let your cat give me a bloody heart attack?"

Hermione chuckled. "He just wanted to say 'hi', Harry." The cat strode across the bed, tail and head both held high in what Harry was certain was pompous pride - prancing git - and jumped over onto Hermione's lap. "Isn't that right, Crookshanks? You were just trying to say good morning to the grumpy little boy."

"Hey!" Harry protested. "Who you calling little?"

Hermione just grinned mischievously at him in return.

Harry grumbled as he gathered up his clothes for the day and stalked into the bathroom to change. He came back out a moment later dressed in his usual outfit, running a hand through his hair, pushing magic out of his finger-tips to straighten and tame it. It was getting a bit longer than he normally kept it, but he couldn't be bothered to trim it.

Hermione looked up from her book and Harry noticed that her eyes were a bit darker than usual with her pupils expanding more than was normal. Or at least he thought so, as he wasn't really in the habit of looking at her eyes; at least not when she was looking or not having a conversation. Or maybe he was just more aware of it now that he found himself taking closer note of her finer details and mannerisms.

Hermione tore her eyes away and a hint of pink appeared on her cheeks. "You know, one of these days we've got to get you into a regular shirt."

Harry shook his head. "Not happening."

"So, you like dressing like you stepped out of the late nineteenth century every day?" Hermione asked, real curiosity coloring her tone.

Harry nodded. "What's wrong with that?"

Hermione shook her head, blushing again. "Nothing. Just not something I'm used to someone my own age wearing is all. It suits you." She wouldn't meet his eyes as she said this.

Harry grinned. "Really? I thought so too." He sat down on the edge of his bed after waving a hand over it to make it make itself. "So, not that I'm complaining, but why were you in my room? Watching me sleep, Miss Granger?" His tone was teasing and lighthearted and he wiggled his eyebrows at the same time.

As predicted, Hermione's face went scarlet and she stammered out a reply. "W-what? No, no. I...I was..I was just." Harry was doing his best to contain his own laughter now as he succeeded in reducing the usually eloquent witch to little more than stammers and stutters. "You're making fun of me," she complained.

"I'm not, I swear," he choked out between laughs.

Hermione smiled too and pointedly averted her gaze from him. "Prat."

Harry stifled his laughter with some difficulty. "In all seriousness, though, Hermione, why _were_ you in here?"

Hermione shrugged, her face still pink. "I arrived early this morning and no one was up yet. I know that you are usually an early riser so I came to see if you were up but when I peaked inside I saw that you weren't. I was about to close the door when Crookshanks ran inside so I came in to get him but he had already settled down on top of you and I didn't want to risk waking you so I put all my luggage in my room then came back to wait until you woke up. I hope you don't mind but I took out one of your books to read while I waited." She held up the book that was in her lap after Crookshanks jumped down to the floor and was sitting looking up at Rune with a cocked head.

Harry looked at it curiously. _Runes, Rites and Rituals_ _of the Old Ways_ by Sven Svensson. Harry raised a brow at her. "Have an interest in rituals, do we? Rituals that most would label as _dark_." And it was true. The rituals in the book were reconstructions of those used by the ancient shamans of the North; rituals to summon spirits; to enhance one's abilities; to see the future; to heal; to destroy; and even, so it proclaimed, to incur the favor of gods. Harry wasn't sure about all of that, but it was reported in writings kept in the Swedish Ministry that Ivar the Boneless had used such a ritual before he led his conquest of the British Isles, which resulted in his Heathen Horde controlling ninety percent of the land, including Scotland and Ireland. It was the uses of Runes as power-boosters that was particularly frowned upon as well as the summoning of not just spirits of the dead, but also of nature spirits such as nymphs and dryads and also the means to turn a deceased person into a walking corpse known as a Draugr. These in particular were considered 'Dark' magic and thus banned. Runes to enhance one's ability were not banned, just frowned upon in most circles. There was a shop in Knockturn Alley that specialized in such things.

Hermione smiled. "Of course. Knowledge is important, no matter the subject. I could ask _you_ the same though," she said pointedly, arching one graceful eyebrow at him.

Harry smirked. "I think you hit the nail quite soundly on the head. Knowledge is power. The more you know..."

Hermione nodded. "Exactly. You know, you have a lot of books on Runes."

Harry agreed. "It is one of my favorite subjects of study, if not _the_ favorite.." He rolled up the left sleeve of his shirt to reveal his Dark Mark. "I've been searching for some time on a possible way to remove this. I thought Runes might be the answer, as they are meant to be one of, if not _the_ greatest conduits of raw magic. Sadly, I have found nothing. No one seems to have conducted any studies related to the removal of cursed marks or scars, and that is what a tattoo essentially is; a scar filled with ink." He rolled his sleeve back down. "I'm thinking I may have to find a way myself."

"Why do you want to remove it?" Hermione asked. "I mean, besides the obvious."

Harry shrugged. "Beyond what it represents, it also brings me pain. Physical and emotional. It's a reminder of what I was subjected to."

Hermione frowned. "It's a reminder that you _survived_ ," she asserted.

Harry smiled tightly. "Yes, it is that, but..." he trailed off. "Hermione, did my parents ever talk about the night I was taken? Did they ever say how Voldemort got me?"

Hermione shook her after a long pause, looking a bit uncomfortable. "No. Not really. I mean, your mum only talked about you a few times, always saying how she missed you and wondering what you would have been like if that night had never happened. She thought you were dead, you see. And your father...he just liked to pretend it never happened. Whenever you were brought up, he would either change the subject or ignore it and leave the room. Especially if Jimmy tried to ask questions about you."

Harry sighed. "I think it's because he knows that he's a coward."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Harry, you don't mean that."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "I do mean it, Hermione. How else could it have happened? The only way it could be is if he ran away and left me behind. If I were a father and some madman came to the house and tried to kill us, I would die before I let them take my child."

Hermione was looking torn. She couldn't deny his logic, but she was having difficulty thinking of the magical family who had taken care of her in the Wizarding World since she first learned of it. Harry could understand. He had had a similar struggle when Voldemort had told him as well; only after viewing the memory of the night had he truly believed it. Of course, by then he had already accepted it, but that moment solidified it and from then on he had harbored a growing resentment for his birth family.

"If they had stayed and fought, maybe things would have been different. Maybe I wouldn't have _this_!" he snarled, grasping his arm.

"Harry," Hermione whispered, moving from her chair to sit beside him on the bed, one hand covering his that was clutching the Mark, rubbing it in a soothing manner. "Harry, you don't know that that's what happened."

Harry shook his head. "No. I don't _know_ ," he lied. "But it is the only explanation of all the facts."

Hermione frowned. "No, it's a _possible_ explanation of some of the facts."

Harry turned to her. "What do you mean?"

Hermione smiled softly. "Well, just that you're jumping to conclusions. You don't know. Maybe Voldemort came there specifically to get you and that was his only focus. He could have gone straight for you and then fought his way out."

Harry shook his head. "Even you don't believe that, Hermione. Don't deny it," he said as she opened her mouth to protest. "I can see it on your face. You're grasping at straws. But, suppose for a moment that were true, what would Voldemort, possibly the third greatest wizard alive today, want with me at that age? I was nothing special. So what was his motivation?"

Hermione was at a loss. "I don't know," she admitted.

Harry turned his hand over and grasped hers in return. "And as far as jumping to conclusions, I've been thinking about this since the moment I discovered who I was."

Hermione's features became sympathetic and she looked as though she were on the verge of crying. She squeezed his hand reassuringly. "Then there's only one way to learn the truth."

Harry smiled grimly. "I'll have to ask them about it." He closed his eyes. "I don't know what I'll do if I'm right."

Hermione smiled tremulously. "I have faith that you'll do the right thing."

Harry scoffed. "Faith is just belief based on an absence of data. It invites disaster." He shook his head and look at her. "But thank you."

Hermione just nodded and laid her head gently on his shoulder in a sort of armless hug. Harry allowed it, secretly enjoying the feeling.

There was a knock on the door and suddenly Hermione was moving from his side and was back in the chair, book in her lap. Harry blinked, wondering at her quick and unexpected movement. Then the door clicked open and Lily stuck her head inside. "Harry, have you seen–" she stopped abruptly when she saw Hermione sitting in his chair. "Oh, there you are. I was wondering where you were. I saw Crookshanks in the kitchen trying catch a rat, but it escaped."

Harry and Hermione looked around, just now realizing that the large Half-Kneazle was nowhere to be found in the room. How had he gotten out? The door had been closed the whole time. Hermione stood up. "He's probably hungry, again. I just fed him before we came over." she sighed. "I'll go get him." She walked over to the door as Lily started back down the hallway. "You coming, Harry?"

Harry had stood and was placing his book back on the shelf. "I'll be down in a few minutes," he said.

Hermione shot him an understanding glance and then went off to find her wayward familiar.

Harry took a deep breath, getting his composure back. He berated himself for bringing up his abandonment to Hermione. He had taken too great a risk in doing so. What if she hadn't taken it so well? What if she had begun to suspect him? It had been difficult to keep his bitterness and rage out of his voice when speaking of it, though a bit had slipped in when he had called his father a coward. But Hermione, for all her intelligence and skill, was all heart. She had been more sympathetic and considerate than he had thought she would be. And that confused him.

He had noticed some odd things about Hermione since he had met her. Her pursuit of knowledge led her to explore areas one such as her would normally avoid. Her study of such subjects as necromancy beyond what was called for by her classes, and now her interest in rituals, which was just the latest example. He wondered how far that curiosity would take her, and if she were to venture too far into the dark, would she be able to find her way back out? Would she even want to?

No, he decided. Hermione's soul was light, and that was as it should be. He hoped she retained that, as it was fundamentally her. Of course, he was adamant in his belief that the darkness, the absence of the light, revealed the truth of a person, and he would not stop Hermione from exploring that, should she venture so far. No, he would not manipulate her or try to change her. He could if he wanted to, but that was just it, he didn't want to. Her light made a fine contrast to his own darkness. A balance.

Thinking of this made him think of Voldemort and his Horcruxes again. Such things were an abomination, an affront against death itself. It offset the balance of life and death and had to be righted. And this made him think of something else. The Longbottoms. Though he had never said anything of it, he had not been too happy with his work with them. Satisfied, yes, happy, no. He had left them in their state not for his own pleasure or anything like that, but because it accomplished his mission of making Voldemort's name feared much better than just killing them ever could. A 'true stroke of genius' as the Dark Lord had said. But it didn't sit right with Harry. He would have to kill them, he decided. Go to St. Mungos and finish the job.

He had seen Neville, of course, at Hogwarts. The boy was quiet and timid, but Harry recognized something in him that he saw within himself. Anger. Neville was afraid, and heartbroken, but he was also filled with rage and no with no target to direct it toward save a faceless figure from his worst nightmares. He was beaten, but not defeated. Harry did not care about the boy's feelings. No, it was nothing so crude as that. His determination had nothing to do with the boy. It was more for his own peace of mind than anything else. He would have to find time to go and do that before the end of the holidays. And if Neville ever came after him, he would just have to kill the boy.

He went downstairs a few minutes later and found the whole family, plus Hermione, Sirius, Remus and Nymphadora sitting in the dining room eating breakfast; Andromeda and Ted had left for their own home the previous night. Crookshanks was looking at a full bowl of food in confusion. He had already eaten after all, why was he being given more? Was it a trick? He kept shooting suspicious glances at Hermione, who would look back with a frown and a furrowed brow.

Harry shook his head. For all that Crookshanks was ugly as could be, he was an intelligent and cunning beast, and was strangely expressive where his facial movements were concerned. He was lot like his owner, except that Hermione wasn't ugly, or male, or a cat. OK, so maybe not so much like his owner in most respects. But they were both intelligent, so there was that.

Harry took his place at the table and ate in silence, exchanging only a few looks with Hermione, who was watching him with concern and some hint of trepidation, as if waiting for an explosion or for a volcano to erupt.

Harry listened into the conversations at the table, not really caring to pay any actual attention but listening nonetheless.

"...so, you're still trying to sell off all of that old stuff?" James was asking Sirius.

Sirius nodded. "I may not be the Head of House Black, what with being disowned and all, but with Regulus nowhere to be found, and everyone else either dead or in league with Voldemort, there's no one to take over Grimmauld Place, so I may as well at least try to make it habitable again. It was surprisingly clean when I first got back. I was surprised how much Kreacher had done to keep it generally in order. Foul git probably thinks Regulus is gonna come back any day and will need a warm bed to sleep in. Always adored my brother, that old elf. Won't listen to a word I say."

Harry mentally smirked. Kreacher wouldn't listen to Sirius because Sirius wasn't the Lord of House Black, and was no long even a part of the family at all as far as anyone was concerned. Harry had long ago finalized his removal from the family, which was first initiated legally by Orion, who was unable to finish it before he died. As well as Sirius, Andromeda was removed as well, but Harry had not done that and he had not removed Nymphadora because he hadn't know about her until recently. He was still making up his mind about her.

What was more disconcerting was that Sirius had moved into a house that was rightfully Harry's and was trying to get rid of items in said home that also belonged to Harry by right. Even if Regulus was still around, which was unlikely as he hadn't been seen among the ranks for quite some time, Harry was appointed Lord of Black and carried the signet ring that identified him as thus, and was recognized by the Goblins as such.

Yes, the Goblins had known for some time that he was alive. Harry had paid a substantial amount of gold to them for their agreement to keep that quiet and remove all traces of him from their records without actually removing him. He had stayed on the Potter manifest as _deceased_ and that was now corrected with the announcement of him being alive. But his status as Lord of Black was still hidden to all but himself and members of the Black family who were still legally part of the family; that meant only Bellatrix, Narcissa, Regulus – wherever he was – and Nymphadora could see, if they were so inclined to check.

He would have to visit Grimmauld and get some of those items out of there. Or better yet, he could have Kreacher get them out for him. Yes, that would work. He'd send Dobby to help if he had too.

"...I swear that damned elf has been hiding a lot of it from me so I can't just throw it all out," Sirius was saying.

"Couldn't be because you treat him horribly, no," Nymphadora retorted sarcastically.

Sirius scowled. "He's a foul little creature, no pun intended, and doesn't deserve any of my kindness."

"He's _old_ , Sirius, of course he's gonna be a bit grumpy," his cousin countered.

"Grumpy?" Sirius barked a humorless laugh. "He's downright belligerent. And he was just as bad when I was a kid so it has nothing to do with him being old."

Remus raise a hand, almost like he was asking permission to speak, which Harry found ironic since he was the Professor here. "I thin we can be honest, Sirius, you were a bit of a foul git yourself in your youth. We all were," he added with meaning. "And he was old even then so I don't see how much has changed on that front."

Sirius narrowed his eyes at Remus. "Just who's side are you on anyway, Moony?"

Remus raised his hands in a placating manner. "I'm not on anyone's side. I'm just pointing out a few flaws in your logic."

Sirius' frown deepened. "Well, don't do that."

"Do what?" Remus asked innocently.

" _That_ ," Sirius asserted.

Remus put on a confused face. " _What?_ "

Sirius stared for a moment, as he was expecting some sort of outburst, then shrugged. "Exactly. Now, what were we talking about?"

Harry ignored the rest of the conversation as he finished his food and excused himself back upstairs for a few minutes. He cast a couple of wards around the room before summoning Kreacher and Dobby to his side.

"Master has called Kreacher?" Kreacher asked in his gravely voice, bowing so low that his drooping ears brushed he floor.

"Mister Harry Potter sir," Dobby greeted, bouncing slightly.

Kreacher glared at the younger Elf. "Tis not proper," he grumbled. "Little Elf should show our master respect."

Dobby met Kreacher's gaze. "Kreacher is not Dobby's master and Mister Harry Potter sir does not mind that Dobby calls him Mister Harry Potter sir."

"Master is young," Kreacher countered. "He is not knowing that you's disrespecting him."

"Enough, you two," Harry cut in. "No more arguing. You will treat each other with the same respect that you treat me, is that understood?"

Both Elves bowed low, Dobby's nose touching the floor as Kreacher's ears did the same. They both mumbled a chastised "Yes, master/Yes, Mister Harry Potter sir" and Harry nodded, satisfied.

"Good, now, I have a job for both of you. Kreacher, Sirius has moved into Grimmauld Place?" Harry asked.

Kreacher nodded. "Yes, Master. The Traitor is trying to claim it for his self, but Kreacher is not letting him. The Traitor is also trying to throw out things, but Kreacher is not letting him."

Harry nodded. "Alright. Here's what I want you to do. Any of those items that cannot be replaced, I want you to bring them to me to go through. What I wish to keep with me, I will hold onto. The rest, I want you to take to Gringotts and have them put away safely in the Black vault. Dobby, you help him. Is that clear?"

Both Elves nodded vigorously, a new life shining in Kreacher's eyes at the thought of keeping Sirius' paws off of the family treasures.

"Good. Go, now. See it done."

Both Elves vanished and Harry felt his wards tell him someone was approaching his room, so he quickly canceled them. A moment later a knock was heard from his door and Harry moved over to open the door. He found Hermione there.

"Hey, Harry," she greeted, unnecessarily.

"Hermione," Harry returned, smiling. He stepped out and closed the door behind him. "I was just about to come back down anyway. What's up?"

Hermione smiled brightly but with a hint of nervousness. "I was just going to have a walk about the grounds, W-would you like to join me?"

Harry nodded, smiling at her. "Sure."

Her smile brightened as she took his hand pulled him along after her. Harry smiled, despite his mind still being partially occupied by the activity he had just sent the Elves on. But a day spent with Hermione, just the two of them, that was something he would be a fool to decline.

 **XXXX**

Harry returned to his room later that afternoon to find a chest of items sitting on the floor by his closet and two Elves arguing about who would guard it until Mister Harry Potter Sir/Master returned.

Harry sighed. "What did I say about arguing, you two?"

The two Elves looked away ashamedly, but kept shooting glares at each other.

Harry locked his door and set of a ward that would keep anyone from hearing inside. Hermione was now chatting with his mother downstairs after their walk, which he had enjoyed immensely while he had said he was going to go and have a wash-up. Which was true. He had almost forgotten the Black treasures until now. Hermione's presence had a way of taking his mind off of things in a way that both comforted and worried him. He only wished that they could have stayed out longer, but Hermione was both cold and in desire for something to drink, so he had suggested she go and get a hot chocolate. She had made one and gotten caught up in conversation with Lily about Charms.

He knelt down and opened the chest, absently wondering where Kreacher had found it. He began pulling things out. Silver goblets bearing the Black crest on them. He set those aside. He soon placed several gold and silver objects with them. Several books, many detailing the workings and uses of a great deal of dark curses, many of which were created by and known only to members of the Black Family. Harry set those into two separate piles, one to keep with him and one to go into the vault for safekeeping. The family spellbooks he would lock away for now, the more common, but still rare, tomes he would keep with him.

Soon he had almost everything divided up, but one of the few remaining items drew his attention. He picked it up out of the chest and held it up in the light. "What is this, Kreacher?" The emblem was a snake which formed a very obvious S shape. The entire thing appeared to be made of Goblin-wrought gold.

Kreacher peered at the object closely. "That is being Master Regulus' locket."

Harry frowned. He had never seen Regulus with a locket in all the times he had met the man before his disappearance five years ago. Come to think of it, Regulus had disappeared not long after Harry had killed that infiltrator from the Order. It was odd timing, Harry thought. Regulus and himself had gotten along well. It had been Regulus who suggested to his mother that she make Harry Lord Black rather than himself, though he had refused to be there when Harry had killed Walburga Black, and then showed up anyway. Of course, no man wanted to watch his mother killed, even if it was a kindness, but curiosity or perhaps even some form of love had driven him to do just that.

"I don't recall him ever having a locket," Harry said.

Kreacher hummed an agreement. "It is being his that he stole from the Dark Lord."

Harry turned sharply to the Elf. "Beg pardon? Kreacher, explain. What is this locket and why did Regulus steal it from Voldemort?"

Kreacher put his hands over his eyes in dismay. "I is sorry, Master. I is being a bad Elf. I helped Master Regulus steal it and did not tell you about it."

Harry sighed and shushed the old Elf. "It's all right, Kreacher. I won't punish you for it. Just tell me everything."

Kreacher took a moment to compose himself and plunged into his story. "Master Regulus had found a cave. It was being a long time ago. Before Master was born. Master Regulus was just out of Hogwarts. He discovered the cave after the Dark Lord took Kreacher there and made him drink a vile potion. It made Kreacher weak. He left poor Kreacher there. I's apparated back home where Regulus found Kreacher and took care of him." He paused for a moment at the memory. "Kreacher told Master Regulus what had happened and Master Regulus insisted that I's be taking him back to the cave. Kreacher did. Master Regulus asked Kreacher to drink the potion again, and I did it, and Master Regulus took the Locket from within, putting a fake one in its place. Kreacher Disapparated us out again before the foul things in there could hurt Master Regulus. Years later, before Master Regulus left, he left the Locket with Kreacher, to keep safe."

Harry looked down at the Locket. Could it be? He dared not hope. There was only one way to find out. Harry pulled the chain over his head. As the Locket settled against his collarbone Harry felt a cloudiness of mind and a certain gnawing feeling of ire rising in him; he could feel dark tendrils poking at his thoughts. He wrenched the Locket off and the feeling vanished as quickly as it had come. That all but confirmed it. But what was he supposed to tell Dumbledore about where he found it? He couldn't tell him that Kreacher found it; or Regulus for that matter. He wasn't supposed to know who either of them were.

A solution came to mind. He dismissed Kreacher with all of the left over items that he wasn't going to keep, putting them back into the chest for Kreacher to take with him to Gringotts, and instructing Dobby to put the others in his school trunk. He went downstairs and ended up walking right into Nymphadora. The older girl lost her balance and started to fall. Harry, reflexes kicking in, quickly grabbed her arms and made to pull her back upright before she could fall. Unfortunately, he didn't pull hard enough and she ended up pulling him down with her.

Harry cursed as landed on top of her, knocking the air out of him; and her, most likely. "Wotcher, Harry!" Nymphadora greeted cheerfully after she had got her breath back. She grinned cheekily up at him. "Is that your wand poking me leg or are ya just happy to see me?"

Harry darted back, scrambling to his feet. He uncertainly looked down, making sure his body hadn't gone rogue and acted of its own accord. He was lucky that it had not.

Nymphadora was laughing from her spot on the floor as she watched him do this. She pulled herself up to her feet, still chuckling. "Easy there, mate. I was only joking." Her grin turned mischievous. "Unless you wanna kip off to somewhere quiet, of course." She winked at him and Harry went red at her insinuation. This sent Nymphadora into further peals of laughter. "I'm _joking_ ," she said again. "Even if Hermione hadn't already staked her claim on you, I don't go much for younger blokes. I'm not into the whole cradle snatching thing. I could make an exception though." She raised her brow at him.

Harry just glared back this time.

She huffed. "Oh, alright, I'll stop. You're no fun anymore."

Harry shook his head and put on a grin of his own. A mean sense of humor and a tendency for pranks seemed to be something that was common amongst the men in his family and those they associated with. He decided to give it a go. "Actually, I was going to sneak off to Sirius' house for a look about. A house like that is bound to have dozens of _empty_ rooms." He stressed his words meaningfully.

This time it was Nymphadora who started going red. "I-I was only kidding, Harry."

Harry walked by and leaned close to her ear. "I wasn't."

With that he walked off toward the floo exit. Harry met Hermione in the entrance hall and smiled at her as he took some floo powder and threw it in. Nymphadora came running in behind him, face still flushed, and it became even more so when she saw Hermione.

"Where are you going?" Hermione asked.

Harry grinned even wider. "On an _adventure_ ," he said, winking. He turned to Nymphadora. "Ladies first. Care to lead the way, Nymphadora?"

Nymphadora scowled at the use of her first name. "Don't call me that!" she protested.

Harry smirked. "Oh, come on, Nymphadora, I thought we were on a _first name_ basis?"

Nymphadora scowled even more and leveled him with a glare but the blush she sported spoiled the effect. She grumbled and said "Number 12, Grimmauld Place," as she stepped into the fire.

Hermione raised a brow, frowning at Harry. "What was _that_ all about?"

Harry shrugged. "Just a bit of fun. Care to join?"

"What sort of fun?" Hermione queried, suspicious, her eyes narrowing at him.

Harry sobered up a bit. "I just want to explore Sirius' house a bit. Get a look at this stuff he wants to get rid of. See if there's anything that can help with this," he gestured his arm.

Hermione's hard expression softened and she smiled. "Alright, why not. But, what's up with Tonks?"

Harry chuckled. "I do believe she thinks we're kipping off for some fun of a more _intimate_ nature. Poor girl, she'll be heartbroken when she learns the truth." He feigned sad regret, placing a hand mournfully over his heart and bowing his head.

Hermione gasped and slapped him on the arm, but her eyes were shining with mirth. "You're an arse."

Harry laughed. "Yeah, I know. But, in my defense, _she_ started it. Come on, I'm sure she'll all but frantic with worry by now."

The two flooed after Nymphadora and found said witch waiting impatiently for them. She eyed them. "What kept you?"

Harry shrugged. "Had to convince Hermione to join us."

Tonks looked at Hermione with wide eyes and Harry noticed Hermione struggling to keep a straight face. "It sounded like fun," was all she said to the older witch.

Harry started up the stairs. "Shall we?" he called down from the first landing.

The two witches traded looks, one of wide-eyed awe and one of barely suppressed amusement, before darting after him.

 **XXXX**

That evening, Harry was sitting in the lounge looking through some of the books he had gotten from Kreacher. The Horcrux was tucked away safely in his school trunk upstairs and with his story secured by a rather memorable trip to Grimmauld Place. Harry was content in himself.

Of course, the trip was not memorable for the reason Harry had presented to poor Nymphadora. As he had told Hermione, he had not intended anything of the nature his innuendos had implied to her, but she had seemed to think he was serious. When he had revealed the truth to her alongside a giggling Hermione, she was noticeably put out; and after punching him soundly in the nose, breaking it, she had conceded that it was a good prank. Hermione had healed his nose after she had gotten herself under control, having burst into laughter when Nymphadora hit him. Apparently, he had deserved it. He wasn't sure about that, but he let them have their laugh. It would not do to murder his sort-of-cousin in his godfather's house in front of his best friend.

After that, they had all proceeded to scour the house for anything interesting, not that they found much, except an old book that tried to bite him and then chased Hermione down three flights of stairs before Harry had managed to hit it with a fireball. He had had some difficulty due to being overtaking with a bad case of laughter. Honestly, he just considered it lucky that he had not burned his house down, as he had missed several shots before actually hitting the angry little bastard.

All in all, it was a fun little detour but now, more serious thoughts were niggling at the back of his mind. Not the least of which was his coming confrontation with his parents. Nymphadora, Sirius and Remus had all departed earlier that evening.

He closed his book and magically sent it sailing back up to his room. James and Lily were sitting nearby, each of them engrossed in a book of their own; Charms and Quidditch, respectably. Harry stood, causing Hermione to look up from her own book meet his gaze with a questioning look. Harry looked over at his parents meaningfully.

Hermione smiled tightly and closed her book as he walked over to James and Lily. He sat down on the couch across from theirs and cleared his throat. Lily looked at him. "Yes, Harry, what is it?"

Harry met her gaze. "I wanted to talk to you both."

James lowered his own book and was looking at Harry with narrowed eyes.

"What did you want to talk about?" Lily asked, setting her book aside.

Harry took a deep breath. "I wanted to know what happened that night, when Voldemort took me."

The reaction was almost instantaneous. Lily's eyes filled with tears and her face was sympathetic, but James snapped his book shut and stood up. "We will not be talking about this," he said, making to leave the room. Hermione and Jimmy were both watching with rapt attention.

Harry felt his rage boil up and before he could stop himself he stood and shouted, "IS THIS WHAT YOU DID THEN? YOU RAN AWAY, LIKE A COWARD!"

Silence reigned and Hermione's eyes were wide as James stormed back over to Harry, his eyes blazing. " _I am not a coward_ ," he bit out. "I am your _father_ , and you will not-"

Harry cut him off. "Then why did you leave me?" he growled. Silence fell again. "I know that's what happened. It's the only thing that makes sense. How else would he have got me? You _ran_. You are a _coward_ and everyone here knows it; they're just too scared to say it. Even now you try to run away from it."

James said nothing; just stood there glaring, his breathing heavy and his fist clenching.

Harry sneered. "You won't even admit it. Whatever." He pushed past his father and marched for the exit. "You know," he said, turning back at the door. "I was prepared to forgive you. But now...maybe if you had been the man you try to pretend to be, I wouldn't have been branded with _this_!" He pulled up his sleeve, flashing the Dark Mark at them. Jimmy, not having been told about it, stared open-mouthed. Hermione just looked sad. Lily was openly crying now.

Harry shook his head in disgust at his father and stormed out of the room. If he stayed, he was going to kill someone.

He went straight up to his room, threw open the door and slammed it behind him. He grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill, scribbling two words – _White Wyvern_ – on it before folding it and giving it to Rune. "Take this to Barty as quick as you can." Rune bobbed his head, the letter clamped in his beak, and flew out the window Harry opened for him.

Harry grabbed his coat and went back downstairs. He met Hermione in the hallway, her eyes were shining and she looked very worried. She took in his attire. "Where are you going?" she asked, her voice quavering.

Harry swept past her. " _Out_ ," he said in a clipped tone.

He could feel her eyes on him as he went into the entrance foyer and threw the floo powder into the fireplace. The flames blazed a brilliant green and he stepped inside, speaking his destination quietly.

He stepped out and found himself in the Leaky Cauldron. He left through the Diagon Alley entrance and made straight for Knockturn Alley.

The White Wyvern was a pub. It wasn't the best pub, by any means, but it was out of the way, and Harry didn't have to pretend when he was there. They knew him well enough and Barty would know that it was important to meet him as soon as possible if he requested to meet there.

Harry entered and looked around. The pub was mostly empty, save for a few regulars and the bard in the corner singing with his enchanted instruments playing along slightly out of tune. He took a deep breath, feeling parts of himself relax for the first time in months. It had been too long since he had come here for a drink. Now, he really needed one, or three.

He approached the bar and ordered himself a large mug of mead, his personal favorite, which was served to him in a mug made of large ox horn, and a pint of beer for Barty when he arrived.

He sat himself down at a table in the corner farthest from the bard and where he could see all entrances and exits. No one paid him any mind, save to tip their hats to him or bow in the case of them not having a hat. Harry ignored them as he usually did. It was an odd thing that they did because of his lofty station as Head of House Black, which was highly respected in this area of the Alley.

He took a long swallow of his mead, savoring the sweet honey flavor, which served to even further relax him. He had not had it since he had last been here with Barty several weeks before he had gone to Hogwarts, and he had not realized until now just how much he had missed it.

It was an hour or so later than Barty arrived and Harry had already gone through four mugs of mead. He arrived through the front door as Harry had. The Wyvern had a floo connection, but they never used it, for security purposes. Harry knew it was Barty instantly, despite the dark hood that obscured his face. There was no mistaking his gait though. It was smooth and graceful but with a hint of a skip in it.

Barty knew exactly where Harry would be and made his way over and sat down across from him, flipping back his hood as he settled. He picked up his pint of beer and raised it in a silent toast before draining it in a single go.

"Ah. That's hit the spot. I really needed that." He noted the troubled look on Harry's face and set the empty mug down. "Alright, what is it? You may look relaxed but you've got that melancholy in your eye." He cocked his head. "It's like you're enjoying a nice bath but someone kicked your Mudblood; or is it puppy, I can never remember; Oh! A Mudblood kicked your puppy! That's it! No, wait, that doesn't sound right either..."

Harry, despite himself, caught himself smiling at his best friend's antics. "You won't believe the day I've had," he said, taking a drink of his mead as the barmaid brought out another beer for Barty, taking away the empty mug and also setting a fifth mug of mead down for Harry, knowing he would want it soon.

Barty thanked the young woman and turned back to Harry. "Do tell."

"Where to start?" Harry wondered. "Well, I woke up with a giant cat on my chest and Hermione watching me sleep; she can deny it all day but I don't believe a word of it. Then I cleared Grimmauld Place out of its valuables since that bastard Sirius was trying to get rid of it all. Loyal old Kreacher saved the lot though. Then I tricked Nymphadora into thinking we were gonna shag only to get punched in the nose for my fun. Then a book tried to eat Hermione and I almost burned the house down trying to save her. Then I had a confrontation with James Potter about the night he abandoned me."

Barty whistled. "How'd that go?"

Harry gestured to the pub. "I'm _here_ aren't I?"

Barty considered this point. "That bad, huh?"

Harry drained the last of his mead. "I called him out as a coward," he admitted, to which Barty raised a brow. "I thought we were going to come to blows, but he just stood there. He couldn't refute it. Finally, I just had to get out of there lest I blow my cover. As far as they know, I'm just a confused teen who doesn't know who he is and feels lost and betrayed. I won't be surprised if Lily is still crying and James won't even look at me tomorrow."

Barty sighed. "You need to be more careful with that temper of yours, mate."

Harry nodded. "Trust me, I know. I'll apologize tomorrow. I'll make it convincing." He waved to the barmaid for another mead, having drained the two he currently had. "So, heard anything of note?"

Barty shook his head. "You mean besides you being an idiot? Having a bird ready to shag and then saying it was all a joke? Something is wrong with you, mate." He shrugged. "Nothing in regard to what we spoke about the other night. Though I can tell you that Bellatrix has been missing in action for several weeks now. The Dark Lord doesn't seem to be worried about her though, so I reckon that she's somewhere on his orders. There had been whispers that she deserted, but of course we know better. Bellatrix is fanatically loyal to our Lord and nothing short of his command would send her from his side."

Harry hummed his agreement to this assessment as he sipped the new mug of mead he had been brought. "Of that there is no doubt. Though it makes me wonder what she's up to. I don't like this, Barty. Its seems that no matter where I turn, I find some form of danger waiting for me. Dumbledore and his Order on one side, a potential threat from our own ranks on the other, then there are the variable factors like the Ministry, and this new task force that they've assembled." Harry was mildy aware that he was slurring his words noticeably now. He might should slow down.

Barty appeared intrigued. "Task force?"

Harry nodded grimly, looking into his mug while he swirled its contents absently. "A special joint effort with the Americans to try and take us all down. Honestly, I'd prefer if you kept that to yourself. I shouldn't have even brought it up, but it's too late now." Personally, he blamed the drink.

Barty raised his hand in a placating manner. "Fear not. I'll not breath a word of it. Best to let these things reveal themselves. Keeps the rookie masks on their toes. Also has the added bonus of weeding out the weak."

Harry nodded. He drained his mug and stood up, dropping a couple of galleons on the table. He swayed slightly on his feet before the world righted itself. "I should probably be getting back before they start getting suspicious."

Barty stood as well and clapped Harry on the shoulder, steadying him. "Stay one step ahead, Harry. And take it slow. You're pissed."

Harry smiled and waved him off, then strode out of the pub.

When he arrived back at Potter manor, Harry was proven correct in one of his earlier predictions. Lily was sitting in the lounge still, weeping silently in the chair in front of the fire. He slipped into the kitchen and opened her potions cabinet and quickly found one designed to sober one up quickly. He downed it and set the empty phial aside, feeling his head clear up quite a bit.

Feeling better and more clear, Harry took a deep breath, letting himself fall back into his role. He approached the chair and spoke softly. "Mum?"

Lily shot to her feet and embraced Harry warmly, her thin frame trembling against him. "I thought you weren't coming back," she whispered. "I couldn't bear to lose you again...never again.."

Harry patted her somewhat awkwardly on the back. "It's OK, mum. I just needed to blow off some steam, have a few drinks at the pub."

Lily nodded her head as she let him go, wiping her eyes with a shaking hand.

"Look, I'm sorry I blew up like that. It was uncalled for," Harry said, the words tasting like ash in his mouth.

Lily shook her head. "No, honey, it wasn't." Her words caught Harry off guard but she continued before he could say anything. "I've wanted to say as much to him for so long but I could never work myself up to do it. I didn't talk to him for weeks after you were taken. I blamed him for it. I still blame him for it. But, he's my husband, and I love him, so I did my best to put it behind me."

Harry sat down in the other chair by the fire. "What exactly happened that night?"

Lily retook her own chair. "It started like any other night. We put you down to sleep and then retired ourselves. It was just before midnight that we were awoken by what sounded like a gunshot. We ran out to see what was going on, and there he was. Voldemort. We fought. We fought so hard, to keep him from you. I...I'm not a great fighter, but your father is a renowned duelist, which is why Savage and Moody recruited him for their unit. He led Voldemort outside, thinking that he could beat him out in the open with no distractions, but we underestimated Voldemort's skill with a wand. We were losing. So James grabbed me, saying we had to leave. I struggled against him. I couldn't leave you behind. I refused to. But he side-along apparated me with him against my will. We rallied our friends to us and went back in force, but when we got there, the house was in cinders and Voldemort was nowhere to be seen. It broke me. I screamed and cried and lashed out at anyone who tried to comfort me, especially your father. I would have rather died than leave you, but he...he abandoned you to save our skin."

Harry took all of this in in silence. It was true, he remembered from the memory he had seen. His mother had indeed insisted that they go back for Harry first, but his father had not listened. Harry wasn't sure how to feel about this fact. His father he hated and that hate was something he cultivated, but his mother, while he had hated her for so long, was another story. He wasn't sure if she deserved the hate he held for her. His father was marked for death, and Harry would deliver that death to him someday soon, but he was not sure he could kill his mother, and he definitely could not raise his wand against Jimmy; he cared for the boy. Despite that he was essentially a replacement child, it was not the boy's fault that he had been born, and could not be blamed for the sins of his father.

Harry stood up and kissed his mother on the forehead, bidding her good night and thanking her for telling him the truth. She smiled and bid him a good night as well.

Harry made his way upstairs and paused outside his door, turning to look at the one directly across the hall. Behind that door, Hermione slept. He knew he needed to apologize to her as well. He had acted coldly to her on his way out of the house and she had done nothing to deserve it. She had supported him and he had been a bastard. Deciding that he would let her sleep and talk to her first thing in the morning, he opened his own door and stepped inside.

The first thing he saw however made him realize that he was going to have to wake Hermione regardless. Across the room, on one of the shelves of his bookshelf was Crookshanks, swatting curiously at Rune while trying to maintain his balance on the narrow shelf; Rune was clicking his beak at the large feline in an almost playful manner, as if daring the half-Kneazle to try and come get him.

Harry shook his head. How had Crookshanks managed to get into his room? The door had been closed when he left and was closed when he returned. He plucked the large cat down from the shelf. Crookshanks _meow_ ed and looked at him in a decidedly grumpy manner. Harry rolled his eyes. "Oh, quit your complaining." _Meow_. "I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that." _Meow_. Harry sighed. "Now, that's just rude."

Harry knocked softly on Hermione's door. A moment later it creaked open a bit and he could see Hermione's eye peering out from the darkness. "Harry?"

Harry held up the still grumpy cat so she could see him. "Found this in my room." _Meow._ Harry scowled.

Hermione sighed and opened the door the rest of the way and Harry put Crookshanks down so he could run inside. Harry was caught off guard though as he straightened back up, his eyes landing on quite a bit of Hermione's exposed legs. He gulped as he realized that she was standing there in what appeared to be nothing more than an extra long shirt. Her hair was tousled from sleep and her eyes were heavy lidded. Harry felt himself go warm in the face. Grasping for something to distract himself he said, "I'm sorry."

Hermione frowned, not seeming to realize the effect she was having on Harry. "For what?" Her tone said that she was very confused, which was quite understandable.

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair, keeping his eyes firmly on her face. "For my behavior earlier. I...You've been nothing but kind and supportive to me, and I was rude and cold to you before I left. I'm sorry." And he truly meant it. He had not meant to take his ire out on her in any form, no matter how small. He could be cruel, but not to those he liked and cared about.

Hermione smiled softly and stepped forward to embrace him, her arms curling around his neck and her head resting against his chest. Harry went rigid for a moment and he was sure that she would be able to hear his heart beating faster and louder than a drum of war, before relaxing and snaking his own arms around her. He momentarily forgot about her state of undress, her shirt hitching up higher on her thigh than before with her raised arms, revealing more of that milky skin, not that he could really see it from where he was currently standing, but the knowledge was more than enough.

"Oh, Harry. I never blamed you for that. It's understandable, given how things went. You don't have to apologize to me," she told him, her lips grazing his collarbone, sending a shiver through him.

Harry disagreed. "Yes, I do. You're very important to me, Hermione. I..." he trailed off, unsure what else to say.

Hermione seemed to sense his struggle and just tightened her hold on him. Harry decided to just accept the embrace and enjoy it while he could.

They stood there for several long moments, neither saying a word. Just existing in that moment together.

Finally, the two broke apart and Hermione beamed up at him. Harry tentatively smiled back. She leaned up and touched her lips gently to his cheek, murmured a good night and slipped back into her room, closing the door slowly.

Harry walked back to his own bed in a daze and crawled between the sheets after disrobing. And he slept, peaceful for the first time since leaving his cold, dark dungeon.

 **XXXX**

 **A/N: Another chapter down. I hope you all enjoyed this.**

 **THANK YOU to all who reviewed favorited and followed. You guys are the best.**

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 **Until next time.**

 **P.S.: I have been going back and editing the earlier chapters. Nothing too major, mostly just correcting mistakes and making sure things flow better. I have changed one important detail though and that is that Regulus was present in the Walburga Black scene. I realized I hadn't written him in so I corrected that. I've only redone the first two chapters so far but I will get around to the rest soon enough. I also edited this one for mistakes so if you see some, please point them out so I can correct them ASAP.**

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	17. A Kindness

**XVII. A Kindness**

As Harry had predicted, James ignored him for much of his remaining days at Potter Manor; and when he wasn't ignoring him, he was watching him with some measure of distaste and distrust. Though no more was said of the confrontation for the most part, Harry was surprised when on the last day before he, Hermione and Jimmy were to return to Hogwarts Remus showed up to the house and pulled Harry aside for a private conversation.

Harry and Remus were walking outside on the grounds, far enough away from where Jimmy was once again practicing Quidditch and from Hermione sitting on the terrace reading a book of Harry's called _The Downfall: A Dark Lord in Chains_ , that no one would overhear them.

"Your father told me what happened the other night, Harry," Remus started without preamble. He looked a fair bit disappointed. "I am not here to tell you how to think or feel Harry, but I do think that you should hear the story from more than one perspective."

Harry snorted. "He send you here to speak for him? He can't even face me himself. It seems that yellow streak of his knows no bounds."

Remus sighed. "Harry, you must understand that while your father did indeed leave you behind that night, it broke his heart to do it. He didn't want to leave you."

"Actions speak louder than words, Remus," Harry countered. "He ran away. He abandoned me to that bastard. Though, I suppose that is for the best. Had he not, I would not have grown into the man I am today. That still does not excuse what he did."

Remus ran a hand through his hair, kicking at the snow at his feet. "It's never that simple."

"It _is_ that simple," Harry disagreed. He looked up at Jimmy flying in the distance. "If I had someone I truly cared about and left them behind to die when I could keep fighting, I would be just as responsible for their death as the one who killed them. James, my _father_ ," he spat the word with contempt, "could have easily sent mum for help while he held Voldemort off - or died in the attempt, with some honor and dignity - but instead, he decided to save his own skin and flee, forcing my mother along with him."

"i can see that there is no changing your mind," Remus lamented, sighing dejectedly.

Harry shook his head. "No. I've thought about this long and hard since I discovered who I was, and his actions confirmed it."

"Very well," Remus breathed. "I must be going now, Harry. I will see you in class on Monday, if not at meals before then."

Harry inclined his head. "See you at school."

Harry trudged his way back to the house while Remus went to the edge of the wards to disapparate. Harry dropped down into a conjured chair next to Hermione, feeling her area-effect warming charm settle over him.

Hermione didn't even bother looking up from her – his – book when she said, "I guess you were closer to the mark than I realized."

Harry swiveled his head to look at her curiously. "About what?"

Hermione still didn't look up. "Your father."

"Ah." Harry leaned his head back again. "Yes. Not only did he try to run from the conversation, he couldn't defend himself when I called him out on it, and now he sends his friends to fight his battle for him. The man is a coward."

"You aren't going to hear me argue with you on that," Hermione said. "I won't say he's a bad man, because he hasn't shown himself to be, but I can't deny that in this regard he was less than noble and brave as one would expect a Gryffindor to be."

Harry hummed an agreement. "Good man, bad man, it doesn't matter. Actions are what matter. It's our deeds that live on after we have gone. James, for whatever reason will be remembered as a good man who fought the Dark Arts wherever he found them, but that is not the truth of the man. My mother will be remembered as a brilliant witch who had great potential for whatever she set her mind to, but decided to become a common house-wife instead."

"And what about you, Harry?" Hermione asked, finally looking at him. "What will you be remembered as?" There was a strange note in her voice that Harry couldn't quite place.

Harry shrugged. "I'm not sure yet. Whatever it is, it won't be as the Boy-Who-Lived or as James Potter's son. What about you?"

Hermione smiled primly. "I haven't decided yet." She stuck her nose up in the air in a fair impression of Narcissa Malfoy, though she didn't know that as she had never met the woman. The image was ruined a moment later by the smile creeping its way onto her face.

Harry chuckled. "Well when you decide, be sure to let the Universe know. I'm sure that it'll really be grateful for your superior opinion on the matter."

Hermione couldn't hold her pose any more as she dissolved into a fit of giggles.

Harry smirked. "The reality is that we don't get to decide how we're remembered. History is written by the victors, and not even really them, but by the one's who pull their strings. And those who question the 'official' story are ridiculed and spit on by those who don't want their version challenged. For example, if I were to tell people that Grindelwald wasn't an evil man, they would call me crazy or say that I was a Dark Wizard or something like that. Even if I'm right, that's not the way the world remembers it, and the younger generations who weren't there only know what's been taught to them. Pose a question like 'how many people did Grindelwald kill?" and they'll answer with vague answers like 'loads' or 'a lot', but the reality is that Grindelwald didn't kill a lot. He was fighting for Magicals the world over, he wasn't going to just go about killing them. He imprisoned his enemies at Nurmengard to keep them out of the way to be sorted out later. Some died in that prison, but not by intentional or violent means. Illness, and a lack of supplies near the end of the war were the main cause."

Hermione was listening intently. "How do you know all of this?" she asked.

"Dumbledore," Harry answered. "He and I have spoken of it a few times. There's also a book in the library called _The Nurmengard Account_ , by Ulrich Hammerstern, who was a German wizard who owned a newspaper called _Der Morgenstern_ , which openly criticized Grindelwald, and he was also a prisoner in Nurmengard during the war; Dumbledore has a copy of it in his office as well, that's where I first saw it. Anyway, in the book Hammerstern talks about his time in Nurmengard. He went in expecting to be tortured and eventually killed along with all of the others in there with him. He was surprised to find that not only were they well taken care of, they were treated kindly and given plenty of food and water. They weren't even confined to their cells. The prison was warded against escape, and a team of House Elves provided for the needs of the inmates. Grindelwald himself visited regularly to make sure things were up to standard. It wasn't until near the end of the war and Grindelwald's forces were stretched thin that the quality of life there diminished. The Elves were bound to Grindelwald and when he was defeated, they left, as they needed to attend to their master. It took some time for the prisoners to be rescued and by that time, more than half of them were either dead or dying from starvation and illness. Those that survived were offered monetary rewards if they would testify against Grindelwald's generals and other supporters. Those trials are in that book there in your hands actually. Toward the end, I believe."

Hermione looked down at _The Downfall_ with intrigue. "But the accounts are fabricated?"

Harry nodded. "Hammerstern turned down their offer and published his newspaper reporting all of it and telling bits of his story. He was shut down soon after and was never seen again. His book was actually published by his sister, whom he had entrusted the text to before his disappearance. He knew they were coming after him, you see. The book has been attacked and panned ever since its release and it is no longer in print. It's banned in several countries too."

"It must be quite valuable by now," Hermione speculated.

Harry nodded. "Yeah. That's why the one in the Hogwarts Library is in the Restricted Section. I could give you a note to check it out if you want to read it."

Hermione smiled. "I'd like that," she said. "You seem quite interested in Grindelwald."

Harry tapped his nose in a knowing manner. "He was a great man, Hermione. Just as powerful as Dumbledore, more feared than Voldemort." Hermione looked like she was going to refute this, but Harry held up a hand to forestall her. "He was. Think of it like this, Voldemort has Britain, Scotland and Ireland in his grasp, but Grindelwald had all of Europe and America looking over their shoulders. That alone makes him more feared. Voldemort has France and America taking notice, but not too much more than that outside of our little islands. Not to mention that he was not afraid of Dumbledore, whereas Voldemort is. Everyone knows it," he added so that he didn't sound like he had inside knowledge. While Voldemort would never admit it to anyone, especially himself, Harry knew that this was indeed true. That's why Harry was the one tasked to kill Dumbledore, because Voldemort was too afraid to do it himself. "The three greatest wizards of our age, in order, are Dumbledore, Grindelwald and then Voldemort. Also, to clarify that Grindelwald is not as bad as people think, consider this. Grindelwald built Nurmengard, his magic is what wards it and his Elves are the ones who take care of him there. He could break out at any time if he wanted. But he doesn't. Why do you think that is?"

Hermione thought about it. "He realized he was wrong?"

Harry shook his head. "No. He realized that the world wasn't ready for the change that he had been trying to bring about. Most people think that he, like Voldemort, wanted to kill off all muggles and those of less than pure blood, but this is false as well. Apparently he and Hammerstern had a conversation about it during one of his early visits to Nurmengard. Grindelwald wanted the two worlds to merge together with the wizards in control and the muggles as lower citizens but not slaves or anything like that. He merely wanted magicals to take their rightful place as the leaders of the world. He believed that over time the muggles could evolve to regain their lost magic. He believed this because of the fact that Muggleborns existed and it led him to believe that such a thing was possible. He theorized that the genetic marker for magic still lay dormant in the DNA of muggles and that it could be unlocked given time and the proper stimuli. He collaborated with Nazi geneticist Ernst Rüdin to see if this was possible. All experiments were conducted on POW's and only on a voluntary basis - as per Grindelwald's request."

Hermione looked very thoughtful. "It is an interesting and thought-provoking concept," she agreed. "The outcome, if favorable, would be unprecedented. Could you imagine if everyone in the world was able to be magical again?"

Harry nodded. "The only problem is that the Ministry can barely keep control over those of us there are. While it would eliminate the need for the Statute of Secrecy and such, it would be millions more people to keep an eye on. And after so long, many would be repelled by the idea and fight against it, and some would not wish to submit to the laws of our world. It is an admirable but flawed plan."

"Perhaps if it were implemented slowly, over time. Just a few dozen at a time, or only in certain generations or populations as a test-run," Hermione said, and Harry got the impression that she was actually considering the idea as valid.

Harry smiled but had to point out a flaw. "The only problem would be that no one in our government would ever agree to this idea. Remember, this was Grindelwald's vision and many who fought against him are still in positions of power. Not much has changed since then, and the world is not yet ready for that sort of change."

Hermione slumped back into her seat. "You're right, of course. It's a pity, though. My parents always feel so separated from me, even when I'm with them, because they aren't part of our world and aren't welcome in it. If I could make them part of it, I could fix that."

Harry considered her silently. He didn't like muggles. They were degenerate and weak of spirit. Sure, they created some astounding things, especially in the weapons department, but what most didn't know was that almost all of their leaps in technology were achieved by Halfblood and Muggleborn witches and wizards, or squibs. The only thing muggles excelled at was finding new ways to kill each other. They were self-destructive and blissfully ignorant of their own flaws. But, the idea that they could be bettered and 'fixed' was something that he actually supported, despite his loathing for them. He hated them because of the way they were, but if they could be made better than they were, he would have no more reason _to_ hate them.

What he hadn't told Hermione was that the few experiments that had been attempted in this field had ended in disaster. When the magic gene was activated, the resulting magical core that suddenly bloomed into existence from it was too much for the body to handle and the subjects had been burned up from the inside out. The problem, Rüdin and Grindelwald had determined, was that the core didn't build slowly over time and mature with the body as was normally the case, it tried to go straight from zero to full maturity in the space of a few minutes and that much power was too much for the body to handle, having not adapted to the presence of magic slowly over the years. They had speculated that perhaps there was another gene which acted as a protection to this effect but were unable to locate it before the war turned in favor of their enemies.

Harry supposed that new technology could perhaps take the research into new territory but again, he doubted that he could gain the support for such a thing, and the world was still not ready for it.

He had insisted on learning about muggles as much as he could during his training with Barty; primarily so that he could understand what it was that he was fighting against. He didn't hate the muggles for the same reasons as the likes of Voldemort and Lucius but he had developed his own reasons, as he had been thinking before.

Hermione had returned to her reading and Harry simply sat there quietly, keeping her company for several hours more.

 **XXXX**

That evening, Harry flooed to the Leaky Cauldron again, then from there to Malfoy Manor, being sure to keep his hood up so that no one could see who he was.

Once he was back at the only home he had ever known, he stalked down to his dungeon, ignoring the lingering gazes of the Death Eaters that he passed. They muttered to themselves and whispered to each other when they thought he was out of earshot. He couldn't make out their words but it was as if they had not expected to see him back there.

This was probably true as he was on a long-term mission at the moment and regular trips back here would be an unnecessary risk, but tonight was a special occasion. In the morning he would be returning to Hogwarts with Hermione and Jimmy, opting to ride the train back with them rather than just apparate or floo there. That meant that tonight was his last chance to right a wrong that he had left unaddressed for too long.

He descended down into the darkness of his dungeon and breathed a sigh of relief as he felt the absolute darkness envelope him. He didn't bother to light the lamps, simply held out his hand and his mask flew into his waiting fingers. He raised it and secured it over his face, its magic blacking out his eyes from outside viewing. He changed into his battle robes, leaving his regular clothes on his desk.

He made his way back up out of the darkness, dressed head to toe in black, his hood pulled low, casting his masked face into shadow.

This time the murmurs and whispers were of a more excited nature. They wondered what Harry was up to. Was he going to make his move against Dumbledore this night? Was the war about to take a turn in their favor? Was this some other mission that the Dark Lord had issued him?

Harry again ignored them all. They were weak and not worth his attention.

He returned to the floo and cast the powder in, making the fire flare up in brilliant green.

"Harry?"

Harry turned to see Barty standing there, looking at him with narrowed, curious eyes.

"What are you up to, mate?" he asked, his expression showing deep concern and he kept shooting glances about like he expected trouble.

Harry shook his head. "Performing a kindness." With that, he turned and stepped into the floo, silently saying his destination.

He stepped out into a near-empty room with a bunch of benches and chairs situated along the walls. In the center was a circular desk behind which was a young witch in a healer's robe. Besides her, there was a family of three sitting off in a corner reading magazines while they waited to be seen by a healer.

The Mediwitch caught sight of him and let out a loud, piercing scream, alerting the others to his presence. Harry, annoyed, waved his hand at her and she collapsed to the floor, unconscious. Harry did the same to the family as they cowered before him. He had considered killing them, but he did not feel the need to spill magical blood unnecessarily this night. He was already here to bring death to those whom had been denied it, there was no need for more.

He stalked through the hospital, magically knocking out all he came across with silent, wandless stunners, until he came to the Fourth Floor Ward, which was designated to Spell Damage. At the far end of this ward was the Janus Thickey Ward, which was a special, locked ward that housed long-term patients that had permanent or long-lasting spell damage. It was in this ward, that the Longbottoms resided. He knew this, because the Prophet had reported as much; and it just made sense, because where else would they be?

They were not difficult to locate. On the contrary, there were only four patients in the ward. A Broderick Bode, a woman identified as simply Agnes, and Frank and Alice Longbottom. After unlocking the door and walking inside, he found them easily. They were in two beds, placed close together at the far end of the room.

Harry approached their beds and looked down at them silently, taking in their sleeping forms. It would be best to do this while they slept. Not that it would be better if they were awake, as they had no higher brain function and could no longer feel fear or even think for that matter. But Harry did not wish to look into those empty eyes. He knew, having seen them just after this had been done to them; of course he had, _he_ had been responsible. The emptiness was not that of one whose soul had left the body, no he had seen those sucked dry by the Dementor's Kiss, and this was different. The souls of Frank and Alice were trapped inside their bodies, unable to come back to the surface. He would free them.

He laid his hand gently on Alice's forehead and silently cast the Killing Curse, which spread from his fingers in a brief flash of green. Instantly, Alice's breathing ceased. She was gone, free from this mortal coil. He stepped over to Frank to do the same when the door to the ward opened. Harry heard the sound of something crashing to the floor and breaking, followed by running footsteps.

"Get away from them!"

He turned to find Neville Longbottom pointing his wand at him. Harry smirked and easily batted the wand out of his hand with a silent Disarming Charm.

Neville looked at him, seeing the mask clearly for the first time. He growled and lunged at Harry, pushing him back away from the bed. Harry allowed this, then used the other boy's momentum to his advantage and flipped him around so that he was the one who was being pushed. He shoved Neville up against the wall, one arm holding him while the other cast a charm to hold him against wall. This done, he stepped back and walked to Frank's bed.

"You bastard," Neville spat. "I swear to God I'll kill you!"

Harry stopped short once more and walked back over to Neville. "God?" he asked as if the concept were absurd, disguising his voice as he had done before. "Foolish boy, there is only one god, and his name is _Death_. _I_ am Death, and I am here to deliver my gift."

Neville struggled against the charm's hold, but was unable to break free. He spouted abuse the whole time. Harry was amused. He didn't know Neville even knew so many curses. It was mildly impressive for such a subdued lad.

He returned to the bed and placed his hand on Frank's forehead as he had done to Alice. He looked up at Neville once more, his voice soft when he spoke next. "You will hate me, and that is as it should be. I will not deny you that luxery. However, do not be sad, boy. This is a kindness."

With those words, his fingers flashed green for a moment, and Frank Longbottom joined his wife in the gentle embrace of eternal sleep.

Neville burst into tears, screaming his parents names in utter despair.

Harry gazed over at him. "Do not weep for the dead, child. Weep for the living, who must go on without them."

"BASTARD! I'LL KILL YOU! I'LL KILL YOU!"

Harry ignored him and strode away from the scene without looking back. Neville was cursing him the whole way, but was powerless to do anything until Harry released the charm, which he did as the doors to the ward closed behind him. As soon as he was out of sight, he sagged against the wall, his body feeling the drain on his magic from casting such a powerful spell not only nonverbally but also wandlessly as well. It was no mean feat to do such a thing. Curse his love for dramatics.

He made his way back to the waiting room and into the apparation area rather than the floo. He apparated away, returning to Malfoy Manor. He put his mask away and donned his regular attire once more. He did not see Barty again that night, nor many others save for a few patrols. He was relieved by this as it meant that he did not have to explain himself or his actions.

When he returned to Potter Manor, he went straight to the study and picked out a book to read. He saw the others in the house before they all retired for the night, but no one made mention of his absence, leading him to believe that none had even noticed it. Except Hermione, who looked at him in a curious manner, but made no mention of her thoughts. She smiled and gave him a brief but warm hug before retiring to her own chamber.

He wondered perhaps if Hermione were beginning to suspect him of something, but didn't have enough pieces to know what. She wasn't stupid, he knew this all too well. He would have to be more careful, lest she discover his dark secret.

The thought of her discovering his true nature was not something he wanted to consider. He didn't think he could bear the fear and disgust that he would more than likely find there were she to do so.

Not long after, he went to his own room and prepared for sleep. Worries about Hermione aside, he was content with his work that night. He had put right an offense; an offense that he had committed. This was his repentance and he now felt that guilt lifted from his soul. He noted the window to his room was open and moved to close it, then realized that Rune was not sitting on his perch. He must have gone out to hunt or something.

Sighing, he left it open just enough for the bird to fly back through upon his eventual return.

He climbed into bed after disrobing and breathed a sigh as he felt his tired body relax, a familiar and pleasant ache spreading through him. He could explain it, but he felt good. Tonight, he had taken lives, but he had done it for what he saw as the right reasons. Something inside him sung at that. He didn't think he would be able to change from being a killer, but if he had better reasons than just doing what he had been told to, that was fine by him.

 **XXXX**

 **A/N: Alright. That's that. I want to extend my thanks to all who read, reviewed, favorited and/or followed because...DAMN. You guys are so metal. Now keep that awesomeness going and leave me some sustenance.**

 **I know this chapter is a bit short. I actually added the ending in during editing to make it a bit longer. But, hey, yay for the return of 'killer' Harry! This chapter wraps up what I call the 'Yule Trilogy' so there's that. Next chapter, we return to Hogwarts and the plot begins moving forward more.**

 **Until next time.**

 **-Atrocity.**


	18. The Occupation of Hogwarts

**XVIII. The Occupation of Hogwarts**

The train ride back to the school had been, largely, nothing really special. They had gone to the platform early, found a compartment, loaded their luggage, and then said their goodbyes. James left after hugging Jimmy, completely ignoring Harry and Hermione both; it would seem that his distrust and resentment of Harry had somehow extended to include Hermione now as well and Harry was none too impressed by the further show of childishness on the part of his birth father. Lily only smiled weakly at them when he left. James' reason given had been that the new Aurors from America were arriving that day and he needed to be there with the rest of the team to help get everything ready for them. But they all knew that the Auror Office had been prepared since right after Christmas and this was just him grasping wildly for an excuse to not have to spend another minute around Harry, who still had not apologized for his words that night. And he would not do so. Ever.

Harry had seen Draco and his little group during the train ride, and noted a few things with curiosity. First, was that Draco was looking much better; he was still a bit on the thinner side of healthy, but at least he didn't look like a corpse, and his skin had regained some of its tone. Second, was that Pansy was not with them; her absence was rather conspicuous and he heard several people asking him about it. Draco evaded their questions easily but obviously, which made Harry more than a little suspicious.

There had been no news from Barty on what was being planned within the ranks of the Death Eaters, which said that either he was being purposefully excluded from the knowledge, or he was in on it and unwilling to betray said knowledge to Harry. Harry doubted the latter very much, but as was his nature, he did not dismiss it out of hand. To do so would be a mistake, possibly a fatal one.

Beyond these small instances of note, there was little to speak of. Ron was being distant from Hermione, still bitter about her turning down his invitation to come to his house for Christmas. Hermione, for her part, simply sighed and then pretended that the whole thing had never happened. She had long ago decided that she was not going to rise to Ron's bait nor was she going to lower herself to give his sulking and whining any merit. Her general lack of attention paid to his woes was enough to get the boy to storm out of the compartment and seek company elsewhere; probably with his year-mates Seamus Finnigan, Gryffindor's resident Irishman, and Dean Thomas, a boy of dark skin and hair, muggleborn and football enthusiast, both of whom happened to be big Quidditch fans like Ron and seemed to be his only real friends in the Den of Lions.

Luna had made some vague, wistful comment about Ron having a nest of Wrackspurts in his ears, and that if he wasn't careful they'd take up permanent residence in there, to which Harry had made the comment that at least they'd have plenty of options on real estate, given all of the empty space between his ears. Hermione, despite her best efforts, could not stop a smile at this exchange and scolded Harry for speaking so about a student; he was a member of the staff after all and should set an example.

As soon as they arrived back at the castle, Harry had walked up to the staff table and spoken in hushed tones to Dumbledore, telling the Headmaster that he needed to meet with him first thing in the morning regarding that _riddle_ he needed help solving. Dumbledore had smiled, eyes twinkling, and Harry felt the expected probe of Occlumency. He had grown used to the Headmaster's gentle attempts to read his thoughts. He didn't hold it against the man. It was fair. Harry could admit to having done the same thing in the past and knew that anything one could do to gain any advantage, whether it be in an argument or in this war, was worth it. All was fair in war after all.

Harry spent the feast at the Ravenclaw table with Hermione and Luna. Hermione was reading her copy of that morning's Daily Prophet and Harry, for the first time, noticed the headline emblazoned upon the front page, not having bothered to even look at his that morning in lieu of making sure he had everything ready for the return to school.

 **MURDER IN THE CLOSED WARD!**

 **THE GOD OF DEATH STRIKES AGAIN**

 **Longbottoms killed as Death Eater returns to finish the job.**

Harry raised a brow at this. 'The God of Dead' huh? A bit pretentious, but I guess given his flair for the dramatic and the practically cinematic dialogue that he had spoken to Neville he could see how such a thing could come about. Not that it bothered him. On the contrary, he felt a swell of pride at seeing this.

Below the headlines were two photos, one of him on the day that he had tortured the Longbottoms, and the other from the previous night as he stood over them, ending their suffering. He had to admit that both pictures made him look rather terrifying, especially in the latter as his mask played tricks with the shadows; and the distinct absence of visible eyes in both photos. He wondered how much it had taken for Neville to agree to let them use his memories to get the photos. After all, he was the only witness to the second event.

"What's that?" Harry asked, pointing to the front page, pretending that he didn't already know.

Hermione paused, then flipped the paper over with a frown. Her eyes darted from the headlines to the Gryffindor table where Neville was conspicuously absent. "The man who tortured Neville's parents killed them last night," she said. "Poor Neville, he had to witness it too. He was right there at both attacks." Hermione scanned the article. "They've quoted the attacker – this God of Death – in here a few times. During the first event he was quoted as saying how it was a punishment for opposing Voldemort, but this time he describes his motives as being a 'kindness'. The exact quote is 'Foolish boy, there is only one god, and his name is _Death_. I am Death, and I am here to deliver my gift', then followed by 'Do not hate me, boy. This is a kindness'."

Hermione folded the paper back up.

"He's kind of right," Harry said, not really thinking before he spoke. A rare occurrence.

Hermione shot him a hard look. "What do you mean?" Her voice was just as hard as her gaze.

Harry raised a placating hand. "Just that I think he was right about it being a kindness. From what I remember about the event, weren't the Longbottoms tortured into insanity? Like, I think I remember reading that the healers reported that their condition was irreversible and they'd live the rest of their lives in a comatose state. That's no way to exist, let alone live. I think what he did really was a kindness. Better to let them go than prolong the suffering of all involved."

Throughout his explanation, Hermione's expression had gone from angry to thoughtful and was now almost resigned. "Yeah, I guess you're right," she said after a long silence. She blinked several times. "I think...if it were my parents, I would wish the same...better to let them rest than be stuck in such a state where it isn't even really them anymore. Still doesn't make it right though."

Seeing her distressed expression, Harry reached across the table and grasped one of her hands, giving it a gentle squeeze. She smiled tremulously at him but squeezed back in return. Luna was sitting at Harry's side and was watching them with a smile that was somehow dreamier than her usual smile was. Harry raised a brow at her, but she just smiled wider. Harry chalked it up to Luna just being Luna and let it be.

The next morning, Harry dug the Locket out of his trunk and made his way down to the Great Hall for breakfast. He nodded to Dumbledore who returned it in kind as Harry took his seat at the staff table that morning. There was always a chair there for him now, but he tended to sit down with his friends more often than not. Today he was early enough that it was only him and the Headmaster present so far.

"You wanted to see me this morning, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, though he was merely using it as a starter, to initiate conversation.

Harry nodded. "Yes, sir. But it would be better to wait until we could go to your office. I'm sure you don't want to discuss that _riddle_ here where anyone could overhear us." He nodded meaningfully to a group of students who had just entered. It was a weekend, so they were dressed casually rather than in their school robes.

Dumbledore smiled in agreement and returned to his meal.

A moment later Remus came in and sat down in his seat next to Harry. He gave him a tight smile, which Harry did not return. He was still rather peeved that Remus had allowed himself to be dragged into something that did not concern him and had even gone so far as to try and convince Harry that he was the one in the wrong.

The hall was filling up slowly and by the time the morning post had arrived, it was practically buzzing with activity.

Rune the raven cawed loudly as he descended down to land in front of Harry, who tossed him some bacon after taking the morning Prophet from him. Rune had a habit of ambushing the owl that delivered Harry his paper, out of some form of protectiveness Harry was sure. The bird was too proud to be described as jealous. Harry gave Rune a knut to take back to the owl, who was probably still trying to figure out what had hit it. He knew that Rune knew what to do; ravens were vastly intelligent after all, and could even mimic speech if they so desired. Rune took flight back the way he had come.

Harry unrolled the paper and immediately choked on his morning tea.

Taking up the front of the paper was a picture of his father, Sirius, Moody and Savage along with the rest of the task force, including two new faces that could only be Proudfoot and Graves. Proudfoot was older than most of the others, save for Williamson, in his late thirties or early forties at least, with longer brown hair that hung in a shaggy wave around his haggard yet still handsome face with a goatee and mustache. On his hand was a tattoo that appeared to be a bear's paw print. Next to him was Graves, a younger man in his twenties with medium length dark hair that was slicked back and a chaos star tattooed on the side of his neck. Harry could see the family resemblance to the Lynch brothers without too much difficulty. The two Americans stood out from their United Kingdom counterparts in that while the normal members of the task force all looked the part of a wizard in that they had robes and such, the two Americans looked more like muggles than anything else, with Proudfoot sporting a pair of sunglasses in addition to his modern muggle clothing.

It wasn't, however, the picture that had him so flustered. It was the headline. Apparently, the Auror Office had seen fit to station Aurors in Hogsmeade and on the school grounds following the second attack on the Longbottoms. Moody and Savage were both quoted in expressing belief that Neville may be targeted next, despite the fact that he was left alive at both scenes. Moody seemed to think that this was a fluke, due to lack of available time, whereas Savage was more speculative in that Neville was only safe as he was the last male of his name and the Death Eaters were all about keeping Pureblood families going, but given that Neville was well-known to not be that adept at spellwork, he may eventually be put down to 'cleanse' his weakened blood from society.

Harry almost snorted at this. Of course, Savage was half right. He had left Neville alive the second time because he was the last of his line and Harry did not want to needlessly spill his blood. The other part though was just way off. Harry would only kill the boy if he got in his way.

Harry read through the article to see if it said who would be coming to the school and was relieved when it was reported that while Sirius and James would be in Hogsmeade, they would not be in the school. Savage, Proudfoot and Robards were listed as being the main force at the school, while James, Sirius, Williamson, Graves, and the Lynch brothers were to patrol the village, which was much bigger than the school and a lot less open compared to the grounds. This left Aurors like Moody, Tonks, Dawlish and the rest to take care of business in the Auror Offices. Moody was coordinating their efforts from the Ministry and following up on leads with his protege, Nymphadora Tonks.

As if to put Harry's thoughts into reality, the doors of the Great Hall were soon the center of attention. Savage, dressed in his usual dragon-hide and deep blue coat, stood at the head of the group of Aurors. Robards was wearing a similar outfit to what he had been at the party, with the addition of his tan Auror robe over the top like an old trench coat. While, Proudfoot was wearing a simple dark outfit of jeans, boots, and a black long-sleeved shirt, sunglasses hanging off his front jeans pocket; he was also smoking a cigarette; as was Robards.

The three walked up to the staff table and greeted Dumbledore amidst the whispers of the student body at large.

"Headmaster Dumbledore," Savage smiled, his soft, lilting voice filling the room, even though he had not spoken very loudly. Everyone was on the edge of their seats, waiting to see what would happen. "I take you were not expecting us."

Dumbledore smiled genially. "Alas, I was not." He held up the Prophet. "I only just heard the news myself."

Savage had the grace to look guilty. "Unfortunately, we ourselves only learned last night. I can assure you we will not allow our presence here to disrupt your day-to-day activities or the running of the school. We are here as a deterrent, nothing more. We shall simply watch and protect."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Of course, Auror Savage. You are, of course, welcome. I seem to remember you as a particularly gifted student in your time here. Six NEWTs, I believe."

Savage nodded, looking humble. "Yes, sir." He motioned to his comrades. "You remember Robards, I assume."

Dumbledore smiled at the blonde Auror, who gave a jaunty wave in return. "Yes. A bit of a rebellious one, but intelligent nonetheless. A bit of a history with dabbling in the Dark Arts," he said in a grandfatherly admonishment.

Robards smirked. "Petty dabbler is right."

Savage ignored this and motioned for Proudfoot to step forward. "This is Auror Wilson Proudfoot from the Magical Congress of the United States of America. Graduated top of his class from Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. President Graves sent him over to assist us in combating the growing threat of Voldemort and his Death Eaters."

Proudfoot nodded respectfully to Dumbledore, his eyes darting around at all of the staff, making note of Snape and Harry in particular, his gaze lingering on their left arms. Harry noticed that the fingers of his right hand were shifting as if he were preparing to draw the wand Harry could just see peeking out from beneath his shirt sleeve at any moment. Harry remembered it being mentioned that this man was just as paranoid as Moody, and it was showing. Finally, Proudfoot looked at Remus and his fingers rubbed the tattoo on the back of his opposite hand absently.

The three Aurors walked back out after a moment, with Robards taking up position just outside the doors of the Great Hall, while Proudfoot went toward the grounds and Savage up further into the school.

Well, things were certainly about to get interesting, Harry thought.

A moment later, Proudfoot reentered the Hall with Neville in tow. He stood by until Neville took his seat at the Gryffindor table, then went back out onto the grounds after exchanging a few words with Robards.

Harry looked at Neville, who was being badgered by his housemates, Ron in particular was being quite nosy. Harry could see from here that the boy looked worn and ragged, like he hadn't slept in days and also like he had been alternating between crying and being angry. Harry did not feel sympathy for the boy. He had been given a gift, and that gift was the chance to properly mourn for his parents and accept that they were gone rather than living each day with the futile hope that they could be returned to normal; at least the boy would no longer be torturing himself with such foolish fantasies.

 **XXXX**

Harry entered the Headmaster's office and sat down across the desk from the old wizard. "How are you this morning Harry?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry shrugged. "I'm well, sir."

"Did you have a good holiday?" The Headmaster inquired, seeming intent on making small talk before they got down to business.

"For the most part, sir," he answered. "I've never been one for social gatherings so being around so much family for so long was unusual. Then my father and I had a bit of an altercation on Boxing Day." Harry wasn't sure why he was saying all of this but thought nothing of it.

"What sort of altercation?" Dumbledore asked, concern coloring his voice.

Harry ran a hand through his hair. "I asked him and my mother what happened the night Voldemort took me," he answered. "I had thought about it for a while and it didn't make sense that Voldemort would go there and just take me, leaving them alive, so I came to the conclusion that I must have been left behind. Hermione tried to tell me that I was only seeing one explanation of some of the facts, but it turns out that I was right."

Dumbledore waved his hand in a motion that meant he wanted Harry to continue.

"So, when I asked them about it, my father refused to talk about it and tried to leave. I shouted at him, calling him a coward and accusing him of running away." Harry took a deep breath. "My mother told me later that James had apparated them both away while I was still in the house and that she had tried to go back for me but James wouldn't let her."

Dumbledore frowned sadly. "Unfortunately, this is the truth of the matter. I was there when they called for help from the rest of our group. I had inquired at the time about your whereabouts, and Lily screamed that you were still back at the house with the Dark Lord and she had ranted about James abandoning their son and said some rather unfavorable things to him. I tried not to ponder it too much, but I could not shake the thought that this was very unlike the James I knew. I don't know what came over him that night, but he did indeed show a cowardice, that was undeniable. I am sorry that you had to find out in such a manner, Harry. It could not have been easy for you."

"The truth is better than a lie any day, no matter how hard that truth may be." Harry felt hypocritical as he said this. He himself was lying to everyone around him on a regular basis.

Dumbledore gave him an unreadable look, but said nothing for a long moment. "I take it that this is the only relationship of yours to have come under strain?"

Harry shrugged. "Jimmy and I are still close. As are Hermione and I. Mum, well, at least she didn't lie to me. Remus tried to talk to me on my father's behalf, which did not have the desired effect of endearing me to James. If anything it made the resentment grow because he didn't come to me himself. Another act of a coward."

"I trust that this will not affect your working relationship with Professor Lupin," Dumbledore stated.

Harry nodded. He was not so petty as to let something like this get in the way of his work.

"So," Harry said awkwardly, trying to change the subject, "how was _your_ holiday, Headmaster?"

Dumbledore's smile returned. "It was quite enlightening," was all he said of the matter. "Now, what was it you wanted to see me about, my boy?"

Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out the Locket, placing it on the table between them. Dumbledore's eyes roved over it. "I take it that you believe this to be a Horcrux, then?"

"Yes, sir," Harry confirmed. "I found it at Sirius' house in one of the upstairs rooms. I put it on and immediately felt like my mind was being tampered with by dark feelings and thoughts. It was much like the Diadem, but not as aggressive and painful in its application. I was able to take it off easily enough."

"Hm," Dumbledore hummed. "I'm seeing a pattern here. This is Slytherin's Locket."

"As in it belonged to Salazar Slytherin himself?" Harry asked. At Dumbledore's nod, the pieces started coming together. "So, like the Diadem, it belonged to a founder of Hogwarts. Could he have done this to an item of Gryffindor's or Hufflepuff's?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Perhaps." He waved his hands and suddenly there were four large portraits floating in the air before them. Harry recognized the one of Ravenclaw as being the one from the Ravenclaw common room. By that logic, the others must have been in their respective common rooms as well. "You can see the Locket and the Diadem both in these paintings, Harry." He pointed the items out.

"Gryffindor has a sword," Harry noted. "And Hufflepuff has...that cup." Harry's eyes widened. He had seen that Cup before. It was at Malfoy Manor, sitting on the mantlepiece in the dinning room where Voldemort spent most of his time. Right in his sight, where he could make sure it was safe. Bugger.

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes. The Cup has been missing for some time, much as the Diadem had been. The sword, however, is here in this office." He pointed over to a display case next to the Sorting Hat where the sword sat proudly.

Harry stood and went over to it, the Sorting Hat watching him with narrowed 'eyes'. Harry lifted the case down and carried it over to the desk. Dumbledore swept the Locket off into the drawer with the rest of the Horcruxes, then opened the case and lifted the sword out, one hand grasping it around the hilt and the other running smoothly up the blade.

"Anything?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore shook his head and extended the sword to Harry, hilt-first. "See for yourself."

Harry took the sword from him and looked it over, running his fingers over the engraved blade on both sides. He felt nothing from the blade whatsoever. He handed it back in the same manner that it had been given to him and Dumbledore returned it to its case.

"I must admit," the Headmaster said, "that I am not sure whether I am relieved or disappointed." Harry carried the case back to the shelf, ignoring the gaze of the Sorting Hat. "Perhaps it is both. I am relieved that he did not defile the Sword of Gryffindor, and yet I am disappointed. If he had done so, we would only be one away from having located and secured them all, and we could proceed to finding a way to destroy them. I followed up on a few leads over the holidays, but they turned up nothing. Wool's Orphanage was derelict and bare, and Riddle Manor was just as fruitless. I even visited the forests of Albania, which are natural hubs for dark magic, where Voldemort visited in his years after Hogwarts, but found nothing there either."

Harry pointed at the drawer. "The Locket was in Sirius' house, which I find a bit odd. The Diary you took from Draco Malfoy; perhaps there is another with the boy's family. The Diadem was here in the school, albeit well hidden. The Ring at his mother's family's house. The places seem to be random. If it was just the Diadem and the Ring we were dealing with one could suggest that they were hidden in places that had a great impact on him in his youth, but unfortunately the rest don't follow this trend."

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, you're quite right. We know that he sought to split his soul into seven parts, that means six Horcruxes and one part still in his body. Seven is a powerful number, not quite as powerful as nine but still quite so. There is a reason it is considered lucky in the muggle world. Ah, I am getting off track. We currently have four of the six. It always gets more difficult, the finding, when the number of things to find becomes smaller. There may be something to this theory that perhaps the Malfoys have another one. They have long been suspected of being in league with Voldemort, but nothing has ever been proven."

Harry frowned. He knew that Lucius was more than smart enough to keep his actions and allegiances beneath the radar of the Ministry, and had allies in all of the right places to make sure that he knew danger was coming well before it ever got near. Harry himself was one of those secrets that he had kept so well over the years. Hel, he had housed the Dark Lord himself in his home for years and no one was any the wiser.

"The hard part would be finding an excuse to raid his home to search for anything. And even if we did, Lucius has always been one step ahead of us. He'll no doubt have found a way to hide away anything of consequence should the Ministry come knocking." Dumbledore was muttering this to himself while Harry sat and listened, mulling it over in his own head.

Harry knew he could easily go to Malfoy Manor and steal the Cup at night while everyone was sleeping, but how would he be able to explain it to Dumbledore? He wouldn't be able to, not without giving himself away in the process. Not to mention that the Aurors in the village and here in the school would make it difficult to get off the grounds to apparate to the Manor in the first place. Leave it to James to muck up every situation he touched with his bastard hands. He wanted to kill the man more than ever now.

Thoughts of the Cup brought up a whole new question. What about the final Horcrux? What was it? Where was it hidden? If the Cup was near Voldemort at almost all times, could the other one be as well? Harry had lived with the Dark Lord for practically his entire life and so he scoured his memory for anything that he could think of that the Dark Lord always had with him. There was his wand of course, but Harry doubted this could be it. There was that damned snake that Harry disliked so much. Was it possible to make a living object into a Horcrux? This would require further research.

Harry left the Headmaster to his musings and returned to his own quarters.

On the way he met Savage, who greeted him with a genial smile. "Hello, Harry," he said, holding out his hand to shake.

Harry grasped his hand and shook it. "Hello, Savage. I trust you are well?"

Savage nodded and released Harry's hand. "Indeed, I am. You look as though you are as well. Where are you off to?"

"My rooms," Harry answered. "I was going to try and get some reading in before I have to help Remus, er, Professor Lupin, plan our lessons for the next week."

Savage smiled. "Well, do not let me keep you. I shall see you around I am sure. You know where to find us should you need us. Robards will be outside the Hall during all meals and down on the lower floors in between; and Proudfoot will be out on the grounds. I'll be patrolling the upper floors. At night the school will be locked down so we won't be required here then. Oh, and I'll have you know that the Prophet has agreed to cease any and all articles that throws your personal relationships into a bad light."

Harry took all of this information in and bid farewell to the Auror with a sincere 'thank you'. He had only gone a few steps when he heard his name being called. He turned to find Hermione running toward him.

She stopped in front of Savage nodded apologetically, obviously thinking she may get reprimanded for running in the corridors. "Auror Savage. Sorry, I-"

Savage waved her off. "Think nothing of it, Miss.."

"Granger, sir," Hermione supplied.

"Miss Granger, yes, I've heard of you. Auror Potter tells me that you are quite the extraordinary young witch." Savage nodded to her. "Now, I believe you had some business with Mr. Potter?" With that he strode off on his way, not bothering to look back once.

Hermione went over to Harry. "You know him, Harry?"

Harry nodded. "Sort of. I met him at the Auror Christmas Party that my father dragged us to at the Ministry. He's seems a nice enough man, but don't let that fool you. I have no doubts he can be downright brutal should the situation call for it. You see that big knife he wears?"

Hermione nodded. "Yeah, I saw that." She shuddered. "Anyway, I wanted to ask you if you had seen Luna anywhere? The last I saw her she was heading to the library, but Goldstein and his little group were looking like they might be thinking of causing trouble. I checked the library but she wasn't there."

Harry frowned. If those boys tried something, he was going to have to resort to violence this time. He had warned them of such the first and last time he had spoken to the Goldstein boy.

"I'll help you look for her," he said.

Hermione's expression grew relieved. As they walked, she said, "You can't hurt them, Harry."

Harry scowled at her. "Why not?"

"You're a teacher. An authority figure," she explained. "You can't be seen to physically attack students. As a student, you could get away with it with little more than a detention, but as a member of the staff you are held to a higher standard. The consequences would be far greater."

Harry considered this and had to agree that she was correct. "But you aren't a teacher," he pointed out to her.

Hermione's eyes grew wide. "Harry, I can't-"

Harry shook his head. "So, you wouldn't step in and help if your friends was being hurt by a bunch of bullies?"

Hermione looked affronted. "Of course I would," she insisted.

Harry smiled. "Then what's the problem? A few well-placed curses and that's that."

Hermione thought it over as they continued to search for their missing friend. They finally found her on the fifth floor, not too far from the staircase that led up to the Ravenclaw Tower. She was huddled into a corner while two boys, Michael and Anthony, dug through her stuff, throwing items around, and Anthony Goldstein himself was currently tearing the pages out of a copy of the Quibbler, balling them up and throwing them at her, hitting her head and arms that she had raised to protect her face.

Harry drew his wand, but Hermione, seeing that he was about to go at them, consequences be damned, drew her own wand and within seconds had all four of them suspended by their ankles about six feet off the ground.

Harry strode up to them and looked up at Anthony. "I warned you, did I not, that if you made any move against Luna I would hurt you. Is this not so?" Anthony said nothing. "Were my words not clear? You are all Ravenclaws after all. You are supposed to be smart. Yet it would appear that this is not the case in your regard. If it were, you would not have been so _stupid_ as to think you could get away with this again."

Harry walked over to Luna and gently pulled her out of the corner, wrapping her up in a friendly, comforting hug while Hermione gathered the blonde girl's belongings back up, even going so far as to repair the Quibbler with a wave of her wand.

Harry let go of Luna after a moment and let her take her things from Hermione.

Luna took out her own wand and lowered Anthony down so that they were more face-to-face, then without so much as a warning, punched him with quite a bit of force, breaking his nose. Harry raised a brow at this display, though a smirk worked its way onto his face as Anthony futilely tried to stem the flow of his now bleeding nose.

Hermione was fighting giggles as they walked off with Harry, who waved his hand, canceling Hermione's charm, sending the four boys crashing onto the stone floors. "You know I'm going to have to give you both detention if they tell anyone what happened."

Hermione shrugged as if that didn't matter to her. And Luna, well, she just smiled and said, "Worth it."

 **XXXX**

 **A/N: Another chapter down. THANK YOU to all who favorited, followed and reviewed. Now, let me know what you all think of this.**

 **As always: I love it when you guys tell me things...**

 **Until next time.**

 **-Atrocity.**


	19. Luminous Lunacy of Loony Luna Lovegood

**XIX. The Luminous Lunacy of Lovely Loony Luna Lovegood**

As it turned out, none of the boys, especially not Goldstein, were willing to admit to anyone what had happened. Harry couldn't blame them; after all, why would they admit to being beaten by 'Loony' Luna Lovegood. Goldstein had tried to pass off his broken nose as being from a fall, but Harry could see that few were buying this story, even if they didn't know who it had been that had really done the damage. A quick visit to Madam Pomfrey saw him fixed right up, much to Harry's annoyance.

The boys weren't the only ones to meet some unexpected opposition to their bullying of Luna. Luna herself seemed to have taken Harry's words to heart and had now decided that enough was enough. A couple of well-aimed hexes and jinxes later and all of Luna's missing clothing and personal belongings had been returned and had not so much as even moved unless bidden by Luna herself for several weeks. One of those girls had tried to tattle on Luna, but that didn't quite pan out the way they had hoped it would. The reason this was, Harry suspected, because word had already gotten around to Flitwick about the bullying taking place within the confines of his own House. Hermione had something to do with that, Harry had been so sure. He was wrong though, on both counts...

Beyond this, nothing of interest had happened. Harry covered for Lupin on the next couple of full moons, Sirius and James had apparently taken up an old school habit of theirs in which they transformed into their animagus forms and kept the poor wolf company. They had to be careful about it though as several students had reported seeing an enormous bear that resembled an American Grizzly, though near double in size, roaming the edge of the Forbidden Forest in the evenings. The school rumor mill had it 'from reliable sources' that this bear was actually none other than Auror Proudfoot. They also said that he was a rare breed of magical beast known as a 'werebear', which were believed to be extinct.

Harry didn't believe any of this for a second; or at least not the werebear part. Now, being the diligent seeker of knowledge that he was, he had researched the term and while there was no mention of them in _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ , nor in the aptly named _Monster Book of Monsters_ , he did come across some vague mentions of the beasts in a book in the Restricted Section.

The book, entitled _Ancient Man: Magick of the Neolithic Age_ , was written by an Armenian wizard who wanted to explore the lost magical arts of Europe's early ancestors. He had found that through the land bridge, America had been settled by two distinct groups of peoples, one coming from what is now Scandinavia and the other from modern day Asia. Whether these two groups intermingled or slaughtered each other is unclear but apparently the two had encountered a beast known as the _yee naaldlooshii_ , meaning 'he who goes on all fours', which was a man, or woman, who could take the form of a beast, most commonly a wolf, though bears were a close second.

This differed notably from the werewolf, which was also clearly recorded by these ancient cultures, in the most obvious ways; werewolves only turned during the full moon while werebears could turn at any time they pleased. Over the centuries, the werewolf remained a constant resident in the annals of history, while it's ursine counterpart faded into obscurity and legend. The last reported werebear sighting had been in the forests of what is now eastern North America in the year 1756, by a group of explorers and their families, all seeking to escape the French and Indian War, the American theatre of the Seven Years' War, who had killed the beast with muskets and bayonets.

No other mention was made of the ancient beast and it was determined that they went extinct in the late Iron Age, the later sightings more than likely beeing nothing more than over-large common bears. To Harry, the idea of the _yee naaldlooshii,_ or Skin-Walker as they were later called in the Americas, was probably an early form of the Animagus transformations. While it was said that the Skin-Walker could choose his animal form, that ability seemed to have been lost in the modern age as a short conversation with Professor McGonagall, who was a cat Animagus, revealed that while the process was long and difficult – the first stage being to hold the leaf of a mandrake in one's mouth for an entire month, down to the minutes – the form was determined by your personality traits. Now, how McGonagall had gotten a cat, was uncertain. Whether it meant that she was calm, aloof and somewhat of a prim, or if it was that she was a 'minx' or 'kitten' in her youth was something Harry had no intention of pondering beyond the initial appearance of said thought into his mind.

The first reported Animagus was a wizard by the name of Falco Aesalon in Ancient Greece. By this time in history, the ability to choose form was all but gone. Other early examples of this were Morgan le Fay and Cliodna, all three of whom had become birds of some sort. While these were the first _recorded_ , in the modern sense of the word, they were by no means the first as cave drawings and other primitive forms of historical recording showed these sorts of transformation quite clearly.

Having all of this information, Harry sought out books on Animagus transformations, particularly in the American theater. In a book called _The Animal in Man_ he had discovered a simple, easy to follow process for becoming an Animagus, which it seemed involved a lot of internal magic after the initial phase of the mandrake leaf, which it said would actually dissolve completely when the month-long waiting period was complete, leaving no real need to keep track of the exact minute of placing it in one's mouth.

He figured it was something he would have to try sometime. It might be interesting to be able to turn into an animal.

This led to speculation as to what animal he might become. Hermione told him he'd probably be a hedgehog or something of that nature ("Prickly on the outside, but get passed that and you're all soft and cuddly!") to which Harry responded by not speaking to her for the rest of the day. That of course made her joke that he had gone into defensive mode ("All rolled up in a ball with your little spiky spines showing."). Harry merely grumbled about not being soft or cuddly. Luna took a rather different approach to this thought and said he'd be a Wrackspurt. Not because he had the ability to make people's minds go fuzzy – though she did jokingly say he had that ability while looking pointedly at Hermione, who made a rather obvious show of ignoring them – but because he and the little invisible creatures seemed to have become well acquainted over the years ("Look, they've take refuge in your ears again!").

Needless to say, Harry dropped the subject altogether when they were around.

None of this, of course, cleared up what, or who, this bear in the Forest was – Harry was quite certain that Proudfoot was not a werebear; a bear animagus, possibly, but not some extinct cousin to the werewolf; not at all – but it did cause Harry to question who had started the rumors. Given the amount of research he had had to do to even find a single mention of the term werebear, he suspected that it had to be someone who was well-read or had a history with obscure or possibly imaginary creatures.

He was starting to suspect Luna. There, he said it.

When confronted about this though, Luna had simply gazed at him with those wide eyes and said that she had no idea what he was talking about. Harry had to admit, the girl was good. He bought it without a second's hesitation. Of course, afterward he wondered why and began to suspect her even further, this time of using hypnosis or some other form of mind magic on him with those luminous silver eyes of hers. He and Hermione had now begun to refer to them as her 'super power' in secret. All one had to do was look into those things and she could get away with anything.

That, it became apparent, was how she had gotten away with hexing her housemates. Of course one of them had tried to tell Flitwick that Luna had attacker her unprovoked, and Luna, when questioned, put on her most innocent face and flashed those big eyes at him and the poor Professor was lost. Luna of course was not a cruel person, so she just got herself off without punishment, and didn't try to get the other girls in trouble for all of their past transgressions; Harry would have done so if _he_ had that ability...whatever it was.

Harry had noticed this about Luna a long time ago, he had just never been given reason to think about it until now, as he had never been on the receiving end of it until now; at least not that he could remember.

He was sitting in the library with his two favorite students – he never told them that, as it was a bit creepy to think, even to himself – and Harry was still baffled by this seeming ability of Luna's. Hermione was working on her Charm's homework and Luna was reading the Quibbler, or more specifically reading the article its front cover promised about werebears and their need to be preserved. Apparently, according to the article – the existence of said article did nothing to remedy his thoughts that the rumors were all Luna's doing – werebears were hunted for their claws and teeth, which could be ground up and used in potions. Normal bear claws were a common ingredient in healing potions – most notably the Pepperup Potion – due to their effect in increasing and restoring stamina as well as general healthiness. This article said that the claws of the werebear not only had these abilities in greater amounts but also had the added attribute of being able to cure Lycanthropy victims – note: _cure_ , not alleviate.

The writer, Luna's father Xenophilius, was known to be an eccentric, but the words had the tell-tale tells of Luna all over them.

"Harry?"

Harry was snapped out of his rambling thoughts by the sound of Hermione's voice cutting through them like a hot blade cuts through snow.

"Hm? What is it?" he asked, looking at her.

"You haven't turned a page in almost an hour," she pointed out.

Harry looked down at the book that lay open and forgotten in his lap. _Runaljod_ , a book of Rune Poems based around each of the Elder Nordic Runes. Beyond the poems, they were also riddles that supposedly revealed more about the nature of the Runes themselves. No one had ever solved one, as far as Harry knew, and the poems had been around since before the founding of Rome. Harry just used them as an exercise in the translation of the Runic alphabet. He doubted that anyone would ever truly solve the mystery of the Runes; it was in the name, literally, Rûnar, which was Old Norse for Runes, literally translated as 'Secrets'.

"Yeah, sorry, just thinking is all," he replied, rubbing his eyes against an oncoming headache.

"Is everything alright?" Hermione asked, her brow furrowing with worry.

Harry nodded and closed his book, setting it on the low table between them. "Yeah, I think so. I just have a lot on my mind. Don't even start about Wrackspurts!" He pointed at Luna, who had opened her mouth with the expression she usually wore when she brought up the invisible little creatures. She pouted and returned to her own reading, muttering quietly about prickly hedgehogs.

Harry wasn't lying either. While he had been distracting himself with pondering about Luna's super power, the truth was that that's all they were: distractions. Before this, he had been thinking endlessly about the Horcruxes and how he was going to get the one that he knew was in Malfoy Manor. In addition to that, he had once again noticed Draco falling back into his old routine of visiting the Room of Hidden Things to try and repair the Vanishing Cabinet. No word had come from Barty about the nature of this item's importance, but he had reported that Bellatrix was back and any information about where she had been or what she was doing was kept completely quiet between Voldemort, Lucius and Narcissa. In addition to this, it would seem that Pansy Parkinson was being kept hidden away in the Manor, only allowed visits from Lucius, Narcissa, Bellatrix and her parents, along with the Dark Lord himself. The reasons for this were merely a matter of speculation, though rumors were abound in the ranks, ranging from the girl having some incurable disease to being with child, which Barty considered to be close to or basically the same thing.

Hermione set aside her own book and reached over, placing her hand on his arm. "Anything I can help with?"

Harry shook his head. "Unfortunately not."

"Does it have anything to do with your visits to the Headmaster?" Luna asked, not looking up.

Harry and Hermione both looked over at her. "What do you mean?" Hermione asked.

Luna looked up this time. "Harry has been regularly visiting Dumbledore in his office."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes, I know that, Luna, but what do you mean about those visits?"

Harry cut in now. "Yes, it does have some bearing to that, but I can't talk about it. Dumbledore has asked me to keep it all between the two of us."

Luna looked at him with those big eyes again and Harry found himself being drawn in again. He tried to fight it but it was no use. It only lasted for a second though. She blinked and it was as if a fog had cleared from his mind. "You need to steal something," she said. "Something that will help the Headmaster and you defeat Voldemort." She blinked. "What is it?"

Harry was still reeling from what had just happened. He was certain of it now. Luna was using Legilimency on him. Now, whether she knew that's what it was or it just came naturally to her he had no idea, but he made a mental note to avoid eye-contact with her in the future.

"How did you...?"Hermione trailed off, looking at Harry and then at Luna, the wheels turning in her mind, then her eyes lit up and she gasped. "Luna, are you reading Harry's mind?"

Luna looked at her friend and without missing a beat said, "Yes."

"But Luna, that's illegal!" Hermione admonished.

"Only if I get caught," Luna countered in her usual dreamy voice.

Harry had regained his composure by now. "Look, I won't say anything about it, but just promise me that you won't use that ability on myself or Hermione in the future, okay?"

Luna smiled and nodded. "Okay."

Harry sighed. "Thank you."

"So, what is it?" Luna asked again.

Harry blinked. "What is what?" he retorted innocently. Such a thing didn't come easy for him.

Luna's expression did not change. "What is it you need to steal?"

Hermione was now looking at him too. Harry rubbed the back of his head, noting absently that his hair was getting a bit long, having not cut it since before he came to Hogwarts. "Well, like I just said, I can't really talk about it." He looked around in a paranoid fashion, making sure that there was no one within earshot of them. Still not feeling safe with this discussion, he stood up and requested that if they were going to have this discussion that they move it to somewhere more private.

Agreeing to this without a second of hesitation, Hermione and Luna gathered up their books – Harry only had the one book with him and it was from his own personal library – and stuffed them back in their bags, following Harry as he led the way to his own personal quarters.

They went in and Harry locked the door, casting several privacy charms over the entire room, in addition to the wards that were already in place around the personal chambers of all staff. Of course, Harry being Harry, the room was currently plunged into absolute darkness. While this was right at home with Harry, being able to see quite well – especially after the attack from Lupin in werewolf form, which had also helped make his hearing and sense of smell a bit better, but his sight, particularly in the dark was superb – Hermione and Luna were not gifted with such ability, though Luna's eyes did seem to glow very faintly in the dark. He waved his hand and the fireplace roared to life along with several torches and lamps.

Hermione looked around curiously, never having been in Harry's chambers before - except when she had found him unconscious after the werewolf incident and she hadn't had time to look around at the time, Harry being more important than her curiosity - while Luna took a cursory glance around before plonking herself squarely in a chair and looking at him expectantly. Rune the Raven cawed a greeting at them from his perch in the corner.

Harry sat down in his own chair by the fire, levitating his book back to the shelf, which Hermione was now poring over with gleeful eyes. Her expression was hungry, taking in all of the rare tomes, some of which were banned in several countries, including theirs; Harry didn't tell her that, and if she already knew, she wasn't saying anything.

"So," Luna broke the silence that had settled over them, "What do you have to steal?"

Harry sighed. He had been hoping that she would let it go, but it seemed that this was not to be. Hermione, drawn by their friend's voice, came over and took the other chair by the fire, opposite Harry's. "I admit, I am curious as well, Harry," she said, crossing her legs and folding her hands in her lap. "Theft is illegal, so whatever it is, I hope you have a good reason for it. If Dumbledore is involved..."

Harry ran a hand through his hair. "It complicated..." he said, knowing that they would not let the matter drop. "There's these items, you see, that Voldemort is using to make himself immortal."

Luna brightened. "The Deathly Hallows?"

Harry blinked in a startled manner. "What? No. Nothing so fantastical." Luna deflated slightly, but Hermione motioned for him to continue. "Have either of you heard of something called a Horcrux?"

Hermione shook her head, but Luna nodded, her expression going dimmer. Harry quickly went over the basics of what a Horcrux was and how they worked. By the end of it, Hermione was looking a bit pale and green. Luna was muttering darkly under her breath, which Harry found rather unsettling coming from the usually bright and dreamy girl.

"Well, Voldemort has created some...six, to be exact. Dumbledore and I...we've found four of them. We suspect the fifth one to be...well, we think we know where it is. The only problem is getting it."

"Where is it?" Hermione asked, leaning in slightly.

Harry shook his head. "That's the problem. I don't think I should tell you, though I doubt it would come as a surprise to either of you who we suspect has it."

"Malfoy," Hermione said grimly, nodding her head.

"Yeah," Harry said, gaping. "How did you-"

"You think you're the only one who's noticed him acting weird this year?" Hermione smiled.

Harry conceded the point. "Well, yes. We suspect it may be at Malfoy Manor. Dumbledore had considered giving an anonymous tip to Arthur Weasley's office and having them raid the Manor, but Lucius Malfoy is too cunning for that to work. He's bribed off Ministry Officials and always seems to have everything hidden away before a raid is even sanctioned; or so Dumbledore says. So the problem is how to get the item without tipping off Malfoy in advance."

Hermione was mulling it over in her head, while Luna just smiled. "It's easy, really," she said. "You steal it."

Harry frowned. "Um, Luna, we already determined that."

Luna just shook her head. "No, Harry, you don't get it. Go to his house and steal it. It's as simple as that."

Harry didn't find that idea to be simple at all, given his knowledge of the place. But, all things considered, it could work, given his knowledge of the place. "I don't know..." he said.

Hermione chimed in now. "I mean, it could work, Harry. Think about it. If you sneak in and take it, they won't know you're coming and won't even think to hide it. I take it you know what the item is?"

Harry nodded. "We have a good idea."

"Well then, if you go in at night when everyone is asleep, you should have no issue, right?" She shook her head. "I can't believe I'm encouraging you to break the law. Well, if it will help Dumbledore defeat Voldemort, then I suppose it's okay..."

Harry gaped. "I don't even know where Malfoy Manor is," he lied. He didn't want to admit it, but their idea was actually making sense. He knew the guard routines, he knew where the Cup was, he could easily sneak in and get the thing. If he was caught...well, he'd worry about that when the time came.

Luna waved this off. "Don't worry about that. I'm sure you can find it in the floo registry. All houses and businesses that are connected to the floo network are in there."

"Like a muggle phone book," Hermione said, catching on to Luna's thoughts. "It should have the name of the place as well as it's actual physical address or location. By that means, it should be relatively simple to find."

"Or you could just floo there," Luna offered.

Harry thought about it. He could floo there, but he'd have to report his going to Dumbledore if he used the school's floo network for it. Or he could go into Hogsmead and use the one at the Three Broomsticks. That took the risk of him running into his father or Sirius though, and he was fairly certain that his father, being the prick he was, would follow him or at least try to stop him and demand to know where he was going. Harry doubted that Dumbledore would appreciate him telling them that he was on business for the Headmaster; it was bad enough that he was even having this conversation with Hermione and Luna; he didn't want to have it with Sirius or, gods forbid, James. He supposed he could fly there. He had his Firebolt, which his parents had given to him at Christmas. It was hanging just over there on the wall behind where Luna was sitting. He actually did know where Malfoy Manor was located, but he would have to make a show of looking it up so no one got suspicious. Yeah, it could work. He'd have to disguise himself so that if he was caught, no one at the Manor would know that it was him.

"I'd rather not floo myself into unknown territory," he said by way of answer to Luna's suggestion. "What if someone was awake when I came out of the fireplace. If that happens, the jig is up and I'm pretty well screwed."

Hermione seemed to agree. "So just find the location and fly there. You have a broom," she pointed to the Firebolt. "A _fast_ broom at that. You could get in, get the item, then get out quickly if you had to.

"And what about when they realize that the item is missing?" Harry asked.

Luna shrugged. "Copy it."

Harry nodded. That was the obvious answer. Unless Voldemort checked the item regularly, which Harry knew that he didn't, beyond looking at it from his throne every day, no one would be any the wiser to its theft. Yes, that seemed the way to go. He knew of course, that he could come up with all of this himself, but he liked having someone to bounce ideas off of. That, and he hoped that by having at least Hermione helping him, he could minimize the fallout when the truth about him finally came out; he knew of course that there _would_ be a fallout, he wasn't stupid; there was no way that Hermione could learn that he was really an assassin for the Dark Lord and there not be an issue there. He hoped that by that time, there might be some personal loyalty between them that would reduce the damage. He could only hope though; if worst came to worst, he would just have to accept it and deal with it.

Harry glanced at his watch and realized that it was near dinner time, so, looking to put an end to this conversation he suggested that they head out and put their books back in their dorms and get ready for dinner.

They went, though somewhat reluctantly, and Harry closed his door behind them and turned so that he was leaning his back against it. His head was whirling with thoughts. First Luna and her use of Legilimency, which was somehow able to bypass his shields altogether, then her suggestion to just break into the home of one of the richest wizards in Britain; Harry was beginning to think the girl might actually be crazy after all, but in the best sort of way. He'd have to keep a close eye on her in the future. Sure, she had agreed not to use her power on Harry or Hermione, but that was not to say that she hadn't already done so in the past and he was just now realizing it – which he chalked up to his reinforcing his Occlumency shields in response to Dumbledore's regular use of passive Legilimency. If this were the case, what else had she learned? Did she now who he really was? Did she know _what_ he really was? He felt dread rising up in him at the thought.

On the other hand, if she did know those things, why had she not said something already? What if she had? How would he know if she had?

He shook his head with a groan. There was no use worrying about this, he decided. No good would come of thinking in circles like this. If something came of it, for better or worse, he'd deal with it when the time came. Until then, he'd just have to continue as though none of this had happened.

 **XXXX**

 **A/N: Another chapter down. First, I'd like to thank all who reviewed, followed or favorited this story so far. You guys keep me going, thank you.**

 **Now, this chapter was a bit like filler, and I'll admit I hit a bit of writer's block with this chapter and the rambling about Animagi and Werebears all stemmed from a thought I had about Auror Proudfoot having a bear print tattoo on his hand and figuring out a way to make it part of his character. Of course this only happened because I based his appearance off of Norman Reedus' character in the film Triple 9 and in the film the character has a bear print tattoo on his right hand, which I liked so I decided to leave it in. I think that Rowling probably got the name Proudfoot from the Lord of the Rings where there is a Hobbit family with the same surname, but I decided that my character would have Native American ancestry and the name came from his family's particular history of producing Animagi who took the form of bears, like their ancestors. That led me to wonder about the history of such things and so I did a bit of research on Skin-Walkers and such, which were believed to be witches (both male and female in this sense) who used dark magic to transform into animals. I took this idea and built it into the animagus information I found on Pottermore and the Harry Potter Wiki, thus resulting in the first half of this chapter. Then I thought about what if Luna had seen Proudfoot in his animagus form, which was a lot bigger than a normal bear, and as is her wont mistook him for a werebear. Given her and her father's tendency to believe in creature of dubious credibility and questionable origins I thought this would be par for the course. Thus the idea would then spread if she mentioned it to the right people, possibly those who had seen the bear as well, and given the canonical representation of how quickly rumors at Hogwarts can spread and grow out of proportion, I just let it flow from there.**

 **Luna having mind magic abilities stemmed from this. It wasn't intentional, but just sort of happened. I wrote the line about her denying her involvement in the rumor and Harry admitting that 'she was good', as in a good liar, then the rest just sort of happened without my consent, but I liked the idea enough that I decided to keep it in and build on it.**

 **And that, dear friends and readers, is how I overcame my writer's block, added a bit of character to a relatively new background not-really-an-OC OC, and introduced the idea that Harry might explore becoming an Animagus later. I'm feeling rather proud of myself.**

 **Oh well, enough of my ramblings. Leave some love for our Lovely Luminous Loony Luna Lovegood!**

 **Until next time,**

 **I Am Atrocity.**

 **PS: Try saying that title five times fast. Bet you can't! I know I can't. GO!**


	20. A Thief in the Night

**XX. A Thief in the Night**

Careful planning. That's what would see this through to the end. Careful planning, and impeccable execution; and no small amount of luck, which he did not really believe in.

Harry knew this of course and while this sort of venture was outside of his typical realm of operation, he possessed in his skill set all of the tools he would need to pull this off. Of that he was more than confident.

But the planning, that was the primary focus here. He would have to be flawless with his planning if he wanted to see this through without any hiccups. Which was why he currently found himself sitting on his broom, a hundred meters above Malfoy Manor with a pair Omnioculars, which Hermione had bought three years ago when she had attended the Quidditch World Cup finals between Ireland and Bulgaria with the Potters and Weasleys. She had graciously lent them to him for use in this particular venture.

What made the Omnioculars so useful – besides being able to zoom in and slow down what was seen – they could also record several hours of footage which could then be played back as many times as was needed.

Harry had been coming out here every night for the last week and watching the shift changes on the guards and keeping track of the nightly routines of the house's inhabitants. Based on what he had gathered so far, he had a good idea of what to expect. Of course, there was always danger of variation. Someone might have to get up to go to the loo, someone may get thirsty and being half-asleep not think to simply call a House Elf. Someone could simply not be able to get to sleep that night and thus be up and about in the later hours when Harry would be there.

He also had to take into account traps and wards. He knew that there was a ward around the entire house that prevented anyone who didn't bear the Dark Mark from entering except by floo or earlier invitation. But, what he was unsure of was if Voldemort had placed any protective charms around the Cup – he would be a fool not to have – or if there were some curse on it that would render him incapacitated, or worse, if he so much as touched it. Harry didn't like these unknown variables, but there was no such thing as _perfect_ planning. Besides, no plan survived first contact with the enemy.

Harry saw the wards shimmer and looked down at the gate through the Omnioculars. Well, that was interesting. What oh what was old Karkaroff doing so far from home? Perhaps seeking help with those brewing hostilities in the east? The Yugoslavian wizard had emigrated to Bulgaria many decades ago and the country was on the verge of a civil war on the magical front. So far it was only some careful political maneuvering and thinly veiled threats that from the ICW that was keeping the fragile paece from breaking into full-scale war.

Harry had seen Igor here several times over the years, but usually only on Hallowe'en or when something big was going on. For him to show up now, obviously unexpected based on the way the guards were behaving, was unusual to say the least.

As he had previously thought, he was more than likely here to discuss the brewing civil war and perhaps seeking Voldemort's aid in either averting it, or fanning the flame. Or perhaps he had taken a side and wished Voldemort to back that side with martial support or even political support. Harry couldn't know for sure unless he could somehow eavesdrop on Igor when he spoke to the Dark Lord, which at this point would be far too much of a risk to his plans.

He sat up there for several more hours, watching and studying. Igor was given a guest room to stay in by Lucius. Voldemort had already turned in for the night with Bellatrix in tow, much to the chagrin of her husband Rodolphus and his brother Rabastan. Harry had long ago seen what reactions this affair between Bellatrix and Voldemort had provoked among the ranks. Rodolphus and Rabastan were two of the most outspoken – or Rabastan was – at least in the manner of body language, of the lot. Rodolphus felt betrayed and insulted. His wife, whom it was rumored he actually had feelings for, was in love with and engaging in an affair with another man. The fact that this man was his own boss was a greater blow to Rodolphus' pride; all of this was conveyed through the way his eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. Rabastan felt much the same way, though for different reasons. He felt betrayed for his brother, and insulted that the institution of marriage was so easily spat on by the Dark Lord and Bellatrix. He was especially cross with Bellatrix, as he viewed her as the real traitor in this situation. All of this information was from Rabastan, who was not as silent as his brother. Rodolphus was a man of few words and was thought of by many to be dim-witted because he was known to simply stare blankly at times. Harry knew better. Rodolphus was a thinker and an observer. Rabastan was a bit more on the outgoing side, though he too could be quiet and speculative at times.

Harry made a mental note of this. Perhaps he could use that to his advantage later.

Upon his return to Hogwarts he sat down by the fire and made a quick note on a sheet of parchment that he had been using to keep track of the guard changes and patrols, noting any variation, no matter how small in the routine.

He sat there for several more hours reviewing it all in his head, the silence of the room broken only by his quiet breathing and the crackling of the fire.

This was how Hermione found him in the wee hours of the morning. She had been visiting more often the last few days. Now that she knew that he was helping Dumbledore, she was always coming up with little ideas to help him out – the Omnioculars being one of those suggestions after he had complained about how difficult it was to sit steady on a broom and write notes on a piece of parchment all the while keeping high enough that he couldn't be seen but low enough that he could see everything.

"Have you slept?" she asked by way of greeting.

Harry shook his head and set the parchment down on the low table between the two chairs that sat in front of the fireplace. His fingers came up to run his tired eyes. He had not slept more than four hours the entire week, and it was looking like he wasn't going to get any that day either. Luckily, it was Friday and he would only have to endure until the afternoon. Then, he could sleep a bit before he went back to Malfoy Manor to actually steal the damned Horcrux.

Hermione sighed and rubbed his shoulder comfortingly, sitting down on the arm of the chair. Harry groaned let his head fall back while one hand went up and grasped hers, stilling it and Hermione adjusted her own hand so that she was holding his in return. The action sent a trill of happiness through him.

"I don't know if I can pull this off," he said finally. And this was true. He knew he could sneak in, he knew he could get back out, but the Cup itself and any possible traps were weighing on his mind. "I've seen the item I need to steal. I know where it is, I know the schedules, I know the layout as best as it can be know from the outside. But this isn't something I've ever done before." And this was true as well. Murder, assassination, public shows of torture, mass killing, kidnapping, demolition. These were his areas of expertise. He could do all of these with very little difficulty, but thievery? That was something else all together. That required a certain grace. Assassination was the closest Harry could come to that, and he hoped that the two would prove to be not too far separated in the end.

Hermione rubbed her thumb over his hand. "You can," she assured him.

Harry looked up at her and asked, "How do you know?"

Hermione smirked. "Because you have to."

Harry almost laughed. It was a simple reason, and sadly it was far too true. More so than she knew.

Hermione smiled down at him as he grinned, shaking his head. "You need rest, Harry. I'll tell Professor Lupin that you aren't coming in to class today." She released his hand with a final squeeze and stood up from the arm of the chair.

Harry's head shot around to look at her. "What are you talking about? I am going to class today."

Hermione spun around. "No you aren't," she said in a firm but sweet voice.

Harry narrowed his eyes. "And what will I be doing instead?"

"Resting," was all she said as she once again spun on her heels after giving a hard look that brokered no arguments.

Harry sighed and grudgingly accepted that she was right. He was more likely to make a mistake if he was dead on his feet. Lack of sleep was something he was no stranger to but as this was something he had no experience in – thievery, that is – he conceded that it was best not to take an unnecessary risk.

"Thank you, Hermione," he called as she opened the door.

She looked over her shoulder and smiled softly back at him in answer.

When the door had closed behind her, Harry waved his hand, snapping all the locks into place. He stood from his chair and swayed slightly on his feet as his head swam. He was more tired than he thought.

He stumbled over to his bed and after removing his boots and vest, collapsed onto the soft mattress. He was asleep before he even closed his eyes.

 **XXXX**

Harry awoke just as dinner was due to start. He rolled himself out of the bed and padded slowly to the bathroom, opting for a shower. Once he was bathed and dressed he went down to the Great Hall, nodded to Robards at the doors, went up to the staff table and took his seat there with a sigh. He was ravenous with hunger, but opted to go light on the food as he didn't want to go on a long flight to Malfoy Manor feeling stuffed. He could always sneak down to the kitchens or just summon Dobby to bring him more food when he got back... _if_ he got back.

Thinking about it, he could just have Dobby teleport him into the Manor and he could go from there. Of course, apparation, whether by human or Elf, made a cracking noise on both ends, though it was lessened depending on the skill, but even Dobby would result in a good _pop_ when they arrived and that might be enough to alert someone. No, he would just stick to the plan that he had spent so much time planning.

He ate his steak and kidney pie slowly. Remus was looking at him with his brow furrowed in worry.

"Are you all right, Harry?" he asked. "Miss Granger said that you weren't feeling too well this morning."

Harry nodded, swallowing the bite of food he had just taken. "I'm fine, Remus. Nothing a good bit of rest couldn't fix."

"If you're sure. I mean, Madam Pomfrey could fix you up in a snap," Remus said.

"No, no. There's no need to bother Madam Pomfrey. It was merely a bit of insomnia catching up to me," Harry assured. "Like I said, nothing a bit of rest couldn't fix."

Remus seemed mollified by his assertion and turned back to his own meal. Harry continued to eat slowly, still working on his main course while everyone else moved on to desert. Harry was glad that Remus didn't question why Hermione had been in chambers that morning. He wasn't sure he had the patience to try and explain that one to the man. Remus was smarter than his other Marauder counterparts but even he was not above some 'good natured' ribbing and Harry was in no mood for such thing. Besides, his relationship with Hermione wasn't like _that_ , despite some certain dreams he had been having since getting to know the bushy-haired bookworm, who happened to have a lovely figure and a brilliant smile; but most of all a keen mind and gentle heart.

He shook his head, pushing those thoughts aside. This was not the time nor place for that.

Once dinner ended, he stood up and began making his way back to his room. As he was about to open the door he heard the echo of familiar footsteps coming up the corridor behind him.

He turned to look back, not the least bit surprised to find Hermione coming toward him, Luna in tow. Speak of the Devil and she shall appear, he thought with some amusement.

He opened the door to his chambers and let them enter ahead of him. He walked passed them as they settled in the chairs in the sitting area and entered his bedroom. He magically slicked his hair back from his face and picked up his Ravenclaw scarf, transfiguring it to be plain black and into the form of a half-face balaclava. He pulled it on and then down over his neck so that his face was still exposed for the time being. He traded his usual white shirt for a black long sleeved shirt and pulled his waistcoat back on over it. He conjured a pair of fingerless gloves and donned those as well; they would keep his hands warm but still allow full finger use. Lastly, he picked up several of the capsules of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder that he had bought at Fred and George's shop and stuffed them securely in his pockets. He didn't know if he'd have to use them or not, but felt it was better to be safe than sorry.

He walked back out to the sitting area and plucked his hooded cloak off the hanger by the door and donned it as well.

"You're really going through with this?" Hermione asked, suddenly looking nervous.

Harry smirked. "Did you think that I wouldn't?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, no. It's just, before it was just planning and all theoretical and now it's suddenly...real."

Harry smiled and rubbed her upper arm comfortingly. "Well, there's no turning back at this point, else all those nights with little or no sleep will all have been for nothing." He sighed. "Don't worry about me. I'll be careful."

Hermione nodded tremulously and then threw her arms around him. Harry stiffened momentarily then relaxed and wrapped his own arms around her, enjoying the feeling of her body pressed up against his.

In the background, Luna hummed quietly and smiled dreamily.

Hermione pulled back a moment later looking embarrassed. "Sorry," she muttered.

Harry shook his head, smiling. "It's okay."

He took a deep breath and walked over to his Firebolt, lifting it down from its wrack. He turned back to them and smiled. Truth be told, he was less worried about this whole endeavor now than he had been when it was first suggested.

"I'm off, then," he said.

"You'll be fine, Harry," Luna said airily. "I know it," she added with aplomb.

Harry smirked and gave a small wave before walking out of the room, broom propped on his shoulder. "See you when get back."

He may have imagined it but he was sure Hermione had uttered one last "Be careful, Harry," before he was out the door.

He passed a couple of students on his way out but they paid each other no mind. It wasn't until he reached the Entrance Hall that he met any sort of opposition.

Savage, Robards and Proudfoot were standing in the doorway to the grounds talking amongst themselves.

"...you can stay and check out the Forest some more if you wish, but I don't think we have anything to worry about," Savage was saying to Proudfoot.

It was Robards who saw Harry first. "Hello there, mate," he said. "Where you off to then?" he asked, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and placing one between his lips, snapping his fingers to light it. He extended the pack to Harry in a silent offer.

Harry shook his head with a small smiled. "No, thank you. I'm actually just gonna go out for a fly. I've not been feeling all too well lately and I think the fresh air might do me some good."

Robards nodded, taking a drag off his cigarette. "Can't fault you there. A good rush is always appreciated."

"What's Proudfoot so worried about in the Forest?" Harry asked, curiously.

Robards shrugged. "Yank thought he saw an Acromantula in the Forest just a bit ago. I'm not faulting his eyesight but well, there's never been a confirmed report of the creatures living in Scotland. Seems a bit far fetched if you ask me. Either way, he wants to have a team check the Forest to see if there's a nest of them in there."

"And I don't think we have anything to worry about," Savage said, joining their conversation. Proudfoot was now walking off toward the forest. "Going out for a late night fly are we?" he asked, looking at Harry's broom.

Harry nodded. "Yeah."

Savage smiled. "Do be careful then."

Harry agreed and strode out of the castle, turning in the opposite direction that Proudfoot had gone. He walked until he was out of sight of the courtyard and then pulled his balaclava up over his face, leaving only his eyes and forehead exposed, then pulled up his hood as well, magically forcing it to stay up so that it wouldn't fly back once he was in the air.

He mounted his broom and kicked off into the air, a thrill rushing through him as he rose higher and higher into the night sky. It was lucky for him that it was a cloudy night so there was almost no light from the moon or stars to give him away to those below.

Taking a moment to get his bearings, he flew off into the night.

 **XXXX**

Malfoy Manor was located in Norfolk, in East Anglia, England. The flight took a couple of hours but Harry didn't mind in the least. The later he got there, the less likely it was that someone would be awake.

He touched down outside the wards at half past one in the morning and hunkered down within view of the gates. There was a shift change at two. At five to two he rose back into the air and prepared to move at the first opening he received.

Right on schedule two new Death Eaters emerged from the Manor and began making their way to the gate to take over for the two already stationed there. They had their hoods down and Harry recognized Nott and MacNair. And at the gates were none other than the LeStrange brothers themselves, as was revealed when they too lowered their hoods to greet the other two.

In this moment when none were watching the wards, Harry shot forward, passing through the wards with no difficulty, the resulting shimmer passing unnoticed by the four men on the ground. Harry smirked and Flew to the top of the manor where there was a small astronomy tower, complete with telescopes and star charts. He landed easily and immediately dropped into a crouch.

He was growing more comfortable with the job the more he progressed. It was just like a quiet assassination, only he would be leaving no visible evidence behind, as in the form of a dead body. No, this time he would not be leaving any bodies behind. The thought was a trifle disappointing, but he consoled himself with the fact that his efforts would result in a death soon enough.

He looked up at the clouded sky and took a deep, soothing breath. He was in his element, and he trusted in the shadows to protect him if he needed it.

He opened the trapdoor that led down in the Manor, leaving his Firebolt there for his getaway and his cloak as well; it would only slow him down if he had to make a run for it and as it was long and somewhat flowing it could be difficult to keep from moving at times. He climbed down the ornate wooden ladder and alighted at the bottom. Next he hurried down the winding stairs to the landing on the third floor.

He opened the door slowly, peeking around it cautiously. He pulled back at the last second as a Death Eater walked passed. Harry fished out his pocket watch and checked the time. The guard must have been a bit behind schedule as he should have checked this floor three minutes ago. Might be a different guard though, he reasoned.

Once the guard was far enough down the corridor, he slipped out of the door, closing it silently behind him and dashed to a nearby patch of shadow, then waited until the Death Eater turned the far corner before going in the opposite direction toward the stairs.

He descended down to the second floor and walked down it at a quick but easy pace, keeping as much to the shadows as he could.

Each corridor was lined with lamps, spaced out evenly and providing just enough light to see the doors by which they were placed. In between each of these lamps was a small patch of darkness where the lamp light didn't quite reach. These were where Harry hid; his black clothes combined with the lack of moonlight coming in through the windows meant that he was more than easily hidden, unless the guard happened to walk right into him.

Harry glanced back just in time to see the patrol come down the stairs he had come down only moments before and ducked into the shadows more fully. The Death Eater passed by and Harry took note of his face. It was Shunpike, or the 'speckled git' as Barty often called him. Variation on this included 'speckled twat', 'bloody twat', or just simply 'twat'. Barty wasn't so creative sometimes and poor Stan shared two out of four of those names with pretty much anyone who had the misfortune to run into Barty when he was in a foul mood. Speckled, though, was reserved solely for Stan, given his problem with recurring acne.

Harry cast a silent disillusionment charm on himself - why he hadn't done that before he wasn't sure - and trailed behind Stan moving carefully and quietly as he went, poised to duck back at any sign of the young Death Eater turning about. He didn't. Harry sent a silent thank you to whoever decided to put this hapless fool on patrol duty that night. He may be a bit off schedule but his lack of attentiveness was more than enough to make up for this inconsistency.

Sticking close to this man Harry made it down to the ground floor without so much as a single issue. He hid as Stan turned about and went back up the stairs then slipped out into the house proper. The lounge, the dining room, the study, the library and the trophy room were all on this floor.

Harry moved like a shadow through the house, making his way slowly to the dining room. He had to pause outside the study though, as the door was opened and he could hear voices from within. He peered around the door frame and saw two figures sitting in chairs talking in hushed voices. One was Karkaroff, and the other was Barty.

"...this situation is getting out of hand," Karkaroff said.

Barty nodded. "I agree with you, mate, but without the Dark Lord's approval there's really nothing that can be done."

Karkaroff cursed in Serbian. "The Dark Lord is too short sighted. He refuses to look beyond these shores to the wider world of problems we are facing." If the Dark Lord had heard him say that, Igor would be dead on the spot.

For Harry that all but confirmed his earlier theory that Karkaroff was here to discuss the tensions in the east. If he remembered correctly, Bulgaria, Serbia and several other countries in that area had been the first to join with Grindelwald during his rise to power. After his defeat the Ministries were deposed by the ICW and new leaders were put in place that supported the views of the liberal international body. From what little he knew of the unrest going on there now it seemed that a faction of those who still sought to bring about Grindelwald's vision were clashing with the ICW's Ministry.

"Look, I'll do what I can to help but..."

Harry moved on from the room and finally entered the dining room. It was dark and empty, the only light coming from the smoldering fireplace over which his target sat.

He walked over to the mantle and looked at the Cup, gleaming even in the relative darkness.

He drew his wand and waved it over it, attempting to detect any traps or wards around it. There were none, not even a tracking charm. It struck him as arrogant for the Dark Lord to assume that no one would attempt to even touch his prized item. It was also folly. Waving his wand again, he created an exact replica of the Cup and placed it in place of the original after taking the real Cup down.

He conjured a black bag and stuffed the Cup into it, grasping it securely in his hand. But, what if it was intentional. What if he knew that someone was after his Horcruxes and had left it unprotected as a trap. He looked around and when nothing happened for a solid two minutes, he breathed a sigh of relief.

He made his way back through the house in much the same manner as he had come in, and climbed back up into the tower. He picked up his broom and donned his cloak once more, tying the bag with the Cup in it to his belt and mounting his broom. He kicked off and hovered high above the Manor, waiting for a chance to leave back out of the wards.

His chance came soon after during the next shift change and he shot through the wards and off into the night, not bothering to look back and see if the ward shimmer had been noticed.

He smiled to himself; this thievery business wasn't as hard as he had first feared.

 **XXXX**

 **A/N: Another down. As usual, let me know what you all think! Please and thank you!**

 **Sorry this took so long. I've been trying to write as well as go back and edit the earlier chapters to correct mistakes and make sure everything flows together better. I've edited up to chapter 9 (Reunion) so far. Beyond that, real life decided to come back and let me know that it still existed despite my assertions to it that is has nothing for me.**


	21. Draco's Folly

**XXI. Draco's Folly**

Harry entered his room to find Hermione still there, fast asleep in his chair by the fire, a book laying open against her chest. Harry stood there, taking a moment to simply take in the sight of her. She looked peaceful. It wasn't a look he was used to seeing on Hermione.

When she was awake, she was always working, always thinking, the well-oiled cogs of her mind turning with the efficiency of a perfectly built machine. But now, in the embrace of sleep, she was showing him a side of herself that he doubted anyone else had had the privilege of seeing. Her guard was down and she looked so young and Harry was suddenly aware that while she was of age in the Wizarding world, she was still a teenager like him; though he was sure that neither of them considered themselves as such.

He took his cloak off and hung it up on the hook by the door with a sigh. He then walked over and lifted the book off of her and closed it, setting it aside on the low table beside the chair along with the bag containing the Cup of Hufflepuff. Being as gentle as he could he lifted her up in his arms bridal style and carried her into the bedroom, laying her gingerly on the bed, removing her shoes and pulling the sheet up over her, tucking it loosely around her frame.

He then went back out into the parlor and sat down in the now vacant chair, picking up the book she had been reading. _The Doors of Oblivion_. He smirked. The book was an old tome from the days of Herpo the Foul which explored the possibility of summoning spirits and otherworldly beings into the mundane world. Rituals and sacrifice were a common theme throughout the book and though none of them had been attempted in quite some time – the last recorded attempt had been in the city of Iram, also called the Atlantis of the Sands or the City of Pillars, which was now lost somewhere beneath the sands of Arabia, where a group of shaman attempted to summon a deity, only to lose control of the magic of the ritual, resulting in the being breaking from their control and dragging the city into the sands as punishment for attempting to control it – and any further attempt was strictly forbidden in almost every nation since; and those that hadn't banned it were too cowardly to attempt it at any rate.

The book contained excerpts from the fabled _Necronomicon_ , of which the squib H.P. Lovecraft had made many a mention of in his works. How much was fact and how much was fiction was a matter of some dispute amongst magical historians and as such any mention of such things were excluded from all historical works save for theoretical purposes.

Of course the book was not just a detailing of rituals, it was full of speculations and theories about what lay beyond the mundane world. It reported that across the globe there were places of great magic that acted as gateways between this world and the next, and named several of these locations – one of which was supposedly in the exact place that the Ministry of Magic of Great Britain was located. It was claimed they built their Ministry over it so that they could study it in secret and keep the common people away from it. Another was located in a similar fashion in Greece, and was the spot where the legendary Orpheus descended into the Underworld to retrieve his wife's soul.

Harry wasn't too sure how much of this was to be believed but it made for an interesting read. There was speculation that a second gateway like this existed on the British Isle, though where it was no one knew, and there had been several expeditions to locate it over the centuries. All of this was not part of the original text though, having been added into a later edition by a former Unspeakable named only as...well, he, or she, hadn't actually given a name for themselves, as was the nature of an Unspeakable; one simply didn't speak of such things.

He thumbed through the book, looking at the ancient sketches and pictures of carvings of some of the beings and creatures that could purportedly summons. Dagon, a sea monster that had once been worshiped as a god; Pan, the Greek god of the wild, and a fertility symbol; Typhon, a monster from Greece; the Djinn; a demon named only as The Fiend, which was associated in modern times as the inspiration for Satan – along with Pan – by many; Cthulhu, a vastly powerful ancient creature that had long ago been bound and sealed in a city known as R'lyeh – a 'city of corpses' allegedly located near Point Nemo – then sunk beneath the sea by the mages of Atlantis. A couple of these had been large parts of Lovecraft's stories as well.

Harry had of course ready all of Lovecraft's works, and while he found them interesting and fun to read he also knew that they had very little basis in the world of facts and logic. Not that there was always logic to the realm of magic.

He shook his head and set the book aside. It was an interesting read but not an area of personal interest to him; he only had the book because of the parts about death and the gateways to the land of the dead. Now that was an interesting topic that require much thought and consideration...

He wasn't sure when it happened, but at some point he had dozed off and when he awoke it was to Hermione shaking his shoulder.

Harry opened his eyes blearily, blinking in an attempt to clear the fog of sleep from them. "Hermione?"

She smiled. "There you are. You shouldn't sleep like that, it'll hurt your neck."

Harry snorted. "I could tell you the same thing. After all, this is how I found _you_ when I got back...six hours ago," he said, checking it his watch.

Hermione blushed, remembering where she had woken up and the thoughts that had gone through her head at the time, only to vanish when she noticed that she was still fully clothed and sleeping alone. "Thank you. You didn't have to let me use your bed."

Harry waved it off. "I hadn't planned on falling asleep," he told her. "But we see what came of that. The best laid plans and all that nonsense."

Hermione smirked but it fell away a second later. "Speaking of plans, did you get it?"

Harry gestured to the black bag on the table by the book he had set aside earlier.

Hermione scooped it up and opened it, reaching inside and pulling the shiny golden goblet out. She examined it closely, turning it over in her hands. Her eyes widened when she saw the engraving. "Harry, do you realize what this is?" she asked, her voice excited and urgent. "This is the famous Cup of Hufflepuff! It belonged to Helga Hufflepuff herself!"

Harry nodded. "It's also one of Voldemort's Horcruxes," he said, raining on her parade.

Hermione's excitement dimmed. "Yeah. Which means you'll have to destroy it, won't you?"

Harry grimaced. "Yeah. And that isn't the only Founders' item that he's corrupted either. He'd done the same to Ravenclaw's Diadem and Slytherin's Locket. The only one he didn't touch was Gryffindor's Sword."

Hermione shook her head sadly, setting the Cup down on the table. "What a monster."

Harry smiled, tight-lipped. "Yeah, that about sums it up." He couldn't help but feel a tad hypocritical. _He_ was a monster too, but she didn't know that. She would soon enough though, he was afraid. The school year's end was drawing ever closer and Hermione would soon be sitting her NEWTs and with this his deadline to kill Dumbledore drew nearer and nearer.

He sighed and stood up. "I need to take this to Dumbledore," he said.

Hermione inclined her head. "I'll see you later?"

Harry nodded. "Definitely."

Harry and Hermione went their separate ways, with Hermione going to Ravenclaw Tower to find Luna and Harry making his way to the Headmaster's Office with Cup, which he had stuffed back into the black bag.

He went up the winding stair behind the gargoyle and knocked solidly on the door. There was a pause, then the door opened. Harry found himself looking at a visibly upset Hagrid.

"Um, hello, Hagrid. Is the Headmaster in?" Harry asked, not being able to see past the giant of a man.

Hagrid nodded and stood aside to let Harry in.

"Ah, Harry, I was not expecting you," Dumbledore said, smiling slightly.

Harry smiled in return. "Professor, I didn't interrupt did I? I can come back later."

Dumbledore waved his hand in a dismissive manner. "No, no. Hagrid and I were just finishing up." He looked past Harry to the gamekeeper. "I understand that this will be difficult for you, Hagrid, but it must be done. Aragog and Mosag are dead and their offspring cannot be controlled or reasoned with. I am afraid that they have become too great a threat to the well-being of the students here. They must be taken care of. I'm sure you understand."

Hagrid gave a great sniff and dabbed his eyes with a large handkerchief. "Yes, sir," he said, his voice thick with emotion. He ducked out of the door and closed it behind him without another word.

Harry looked from the door to Dumbledore. "What was that all about?"

Dumbledore looked sad. "For many years now, in fact since Hagrid was a student here himself, our Forest has been home to a colony of Acromantula. Aragog, their father and leader, was once a pet of Hagrid's when he was a student, but he escaped into the Forest just before Hagrid was expelled. There, he and his mate, Mosag, bred quite a family. A hundred or so children. Well, Auror Proudfoot spotted one near the edge of the Forest the other evening but it had disappeared by the time he got to it, last night he managed to kill one on the grounds _outside_ the Forest. As Headmaster I cannot allow such a danger to my students to persist. They must be exterminated, I'm afraid. Aragog died last year of old age and his mate soon after. Since then their offspring have gotten more and more daring. They've gone too far this time. Had they stayed in the Forest I would have had no qualms letting them stay but they've come out onto the grounds now and that I cannot permit."

Harry nodded, thinking of how Savage and Robards would probably owe Proudfoot an apology for not believing him.

"The Aurors," Dumbledore continued, "along with a team from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures' Beast Division will be going into the Forest today to clear them out. I've arranged for several members of my Order to come and stand guard at the school in their absence."

Harry put on a frown. "Order?"

Dumbledore faltered for a moment. "Forgive me, Harry. I forget that there is much that you still don't know. Have you ever heard of the Order of the Phoenix?"

Harry shook his head. "No," he lied.

"The Order is a secret society I founded almost thirty years ago," he explained. "It was created for the sole purpose of combating Voldemort at a time when the Ministry was doing nothing to stop him. We have since then joined forces, or at least we have fought alongside each other for some time now. Several of our members are Ministry employees. Your parents are both members, as are Sirius and Remus and Professor Snape – who is also a spy for us in the Death Eater camp. Your friend Miss Granger is a prospective member, as is young Mr. Weasley; all of his family, except his sister, are members as well. You will see them here today on guard duty. Our ranks used to be greater, but over the years our members have been steadily picked off by this Death Eater that the Prophet has dubbed the God of Death, as well as the one they have taken to calling the Hangman. We've lost many friends and family members to those two. I had hoped you would join us..."

He spoke sadly and Harry had a conflicted feeling of pride at hearing of his own exploits from one on the other side; it was conflicted because despite the fact that he hated the light, he had come to actually respect and admire the Headmaster, and more than that in regards to Hermione.

"Now, what was it you wanted to see me about?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry lifted the bag for him to see, then reached inside and pulled out the Cup, setting it on the desk.

Dumbledore's eyes widened almost imperceptibly. "Where, may I ask, did you come across this?" he asked, picking up the Cup and examining it in much the same manner Hermione had earlier, only without the excitement.

Harry took a deep breath. "Malfoy Manor."

Dumbledore raised a brow and set the Cup down. "And how did you get it?"

Harry rubbed the back of his head. "I stole it." Before Dumbledore could say anything else, he plunged into his story. "You see, I was thinking about how to find the Cup and I accidentally let slip to Hermione about it and then the idea came up to steal it and so I looked up the Malfoy Manor location in the floo registry and flew there on my broom. I scoped the place out for the past week, then, last night, I went in and found it. It was sitting right there in the dining room, right out in the open for all to see. I took it and replaced it with a fake and then flew back. Don't worry, I wasn't seen. I was careful."

Dumbledore leveled him with a disapproving frown. "Harry, I hope you understand that I cannot condone thievery."

Harry nodded. "Of course, sir."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "That being said, I must commend you for your initiative. We now stand only one final Horcrux away from being able to destroy Voldemort once and for all."

Harry smiled. "Sir, should we not destroy them all now while we have them?"

Dumbledore thought for a moment, stroking his long beard. "I would normally say yes but I fear I do not know what will happen if we do. If Voldemort can sense when one is destroyed doing so will tip him off to our actions.

Harry nodded, "Yes, sir. I see your point."

"However, I do believe that I know where the final one may be located. If you would care to, you mat accompany me there tonight."

Harry smirked. "I wouldn't miss it, sir."

Dumbledore smiled softly. "Good lad. Meet me on the Astronomy Tower after dinner. Now, it is a fine Saturday. I would suggest you go and enjoy it with your friends. It will be quite a night."

Harry agreed and stood up to leave while Dumbledore put the Cup with the other Horcruxes.

"This journey will be very dangerous, Harry," Dumbledore said as Harry opened the door. "Be sure you leave nothing unsaid that you cannot die having not said." His voice was grave and serious.

Harry would normally have taken those words as a threat, but the way Dumbledore said them he knew that this was not the case; it was a warning from one who considered himself a friend. "Yes, sir."

Harry stepped out of from behind the gargoyle and found himself crashing to the ground, having walked right into someone. He scrambled back, his instincts kicking in and telling him to put some distance between himself and the other person; whether they be friend or foe didn't matter in the least.

As it turned out, that distinction was a difficult one to make. The person he had smashed into was none other than Draco Malfoy. "Watch where you're going, Potter," the blonde boy spat, dusting himself off.

Harry rose back to his feet. "I was about to tell you the same thing, Malfoy."

Draco looked at where Harry had just come from. "I see you've been chumming it up with your friend, the Headmaster." _The enemy_ , was the words that though left unsaid hung in the air between them like a cloud.

Harry scoffed. "Don't kid yourself. And what about you - hm? Off to tinker with your toy? Your _Vanishing Cabinet_?"

The color visibly drained from Draco's face. "You don't know what you're talking about, Potter."

Harry cocked his head. "You're right, I don't. But if you tell me now, I may just be merciful on you."

Draco sneered and spat at Harry's feet. "You think you're so powerful, don't you?"

Harry feigned thought. "Uh...yeah, actually." He pulled his wand. "Care to find out just how much?"

Draco's nostrils flared but he said nothing, just stomped past Harry and off down the corridor.

Harry frowned, watching him go. It was unlike Draco to back down so quickly. Whatever it was he was doing, it must be _very_ important if it had him curbing his temper like that. He wondered if Draco was somehow close to finishing the repairs. The thought renewed his determination.

Harry put his wand away and walked to the library. As he had expected, he found Hermione there with Luna and a very annoyed looking Ron. Just before Harry reached them, Jimmy came trotting out of the shelves carrying a tome that was practically as big as he was. This he heaved up onto the table in front of Hermione with a resounding _thud_. Hermione smiled and set aside a book that she had been flipping through to delve into this bit of Stonehenge that had somehow been transfigured into a book and then somehow made its way into the Hogwarts library. It must have gotten lost, he figured, and the national landmark would be sorely missing this missing slab.

He shook his head at the sight, a surge of affection swelling up inside him. Dumbledore's words echoed in his head and he determined to talk to Hermione later before he and Dumbledore left. He would have done it now, but he needed some time to figure out how to say what he knew he needed to say.

Seeing Jimmy, he knew that he needed to talk to him as well. That was easier, and he could do _that_ now. "Jimmy," he called out, catching the attention of the entire group. If it was possible, Ron's expression grew even more soured. "Come here, would you, I need to talk to you."

Jimmy looked at Hermione as if to ask permission and Harry determined that he must have been doing homework. Hermione was very strict about homework. She nodded and he smiled, running over to his brother.

Hermione smiled at them and Harry smiled back. He went over to her and leaned down to whisper in her ear. "Could you come to my room before dinner? I have something I need to talk to you about."

Hermione nodded, her eyes curious. "Yeah, I can do that."

"Come alone," he told her, then went back to Jimmy and patted him on the shoulder, ignoring the glare that Ron was shooting at his back. "Come on, mate, let take a walk."

They trekked outside and across the grounds to the lake. Harry stood silent for a long moment, watching the giant squid's tentacles as they lifted a large fish out of the water before pulling it back into the dark, murky depths.

"Jimmy, you know I care about you right?" Harry asked suddenly, catching his brother off guard.

Jimmy nodded, grinning, but the grin slipped when he saw Harry's serious expression. "Of course, Harry. We're brothers, it's what we do."

Harry silently agreed. Yes, it was what they did. "I may not have known you very long, Jimmy, but no matter what happens, no matter the things you see or hear, just know that you are my brother, and I love you. Okay?"

Jimmy was young, but even he could see that something was wrong. "Okay. Harry, what's going on?"

Harry shook his head. "I...I'm going somewhere tonight, with Dumbledore. It's going to be very dangerous, and if I don't survive, well..."

Jimmy shook his head. "You'll be with Dumbledore. Everything will be fine."

Harry didn't have the heart to tell him that Dumbledore was the reason he was afraid for his life. He had decided in the confines of his own mind that tonight was the night. Once the last Horcrux was in his hands, he'd have to do it. He'd have to kill the Headmaster. The thought alone sent a surge of dread through him. He still did not know if he had what it took to defeat the great wizard that was Albus Dumbledore, but he knew he had to try. It was what he had been sent here to do after all, even if the rules had changed a bit, the mission was still the mission.

"If only it were so simple," he said aloud, eyes gazing across the lake, unseeing. Whether he was responding to Jimmy or his own thoughts, even he wasn't sure.

He was caught off guard when Jimmy hugged him. He wrapped his brother up in a hug in return and sighed. Afterward, they stood in silence for several long minutes, just looking at the lake, enjoying being in each others company, just two siblings separated by birth but brought back together by the most unlikely of circumstances.

They were returning to the castle when a group of about twenty wizards came out of the front doors and began making their way toward the forest. A moment later the seven Aurors stationed at the school and village came out and followed after them.

Robards waved at them while lighting a cigarette, and the Lynch brothers gave jaunty salutes. Harry and Jimmy waved back too as Sirius and James caught sight of them. James stopped long enough to tell Jimmy to seek out the Order members in the school if he needed anything before pointedly ignoring Harry and marching off into the Forest.

They walked into the entrance hall to find two red-haired men in their twenties standing there talking to each other genially.

One of them, tall and bearded, dressed in what was obviously dragon-hide under a long grey-brown coat, saw Jimmy and waved him over, giving the boy a joyful hug.

"Charlie!" Jimmy grinned. "When did you get here?"

Charlie, as in Charlie Weasley, ruffled Jimmy's hair. "Flooed over from Romania this morning at Dumbledore's request. I was just catching up with Bill about what I'd missed since the wedding."

Bill, who was long-haired and clean-shaven, wearing robes similar to Charlies only in black and grey, patted Jimmy on the head. "I was telling him about your brother coming back from the dead, which he of course already knew about but the fact that he was a genius and tried to beat my school records in OWLs and NEWTs was something of note."

Harry chuckled, drawing the attention of the two young men. "I wouldn't say genius. I just studied really well."

Bill gave a smile and extended his hand to Harry. "We haven't properly met. I'm Bill Weasley," he said and Harry shook his hand.

Charlie did the same. "Charlie Weasley."

"Nice to meet you both," Harry said.

Charlie shook his head. "No, the pleasure is ours. It's not every day you can meet a dead man that doesn't just float through you like you aren't there."

Bill laughed with his brother and Harry allowed himself a smile. These two reminded him a bit of their younger twin brothers, Fred and George, except that Harry could see that beneath the joking, kind exterior, these two could be quite fierce if it was necessary.

"So what do you do in Romania," Harry asked.

Charlie grinned like a kid at Christmas. "I'm a Dragon Handler," he said. "You know, I specialize in the general everyday care for dragons of all ages and if one gets loose or a wild one gets too aggressive I and my team go out and subdue it."

Harry was actually impressed. "Sound dangerous," he noted.

Charlie nodded, not looking at all bothered by the thought of getting killed or mauled or burned by a dragon. "Oh of course, but it wouldn't be so fun and interesting otherwise."

Harry couldn't argue that logic. "What about you, Bill?"

Bill shrugged. "I work as a Curse-Breaker at Gringotts. I was stationed in Egypt for a while; lived over there and all that, but I came back recently, got married and now I just portkey over to the desert every morning and I'm back home in time for dinner every night."

"You don't sound like you were too keen on coming back over the pond," Harry said, noting the way Bill had spoken about coming back. He seemed happy about his marriage, which said that it wasn't arranged like some Pureblood families forced their children to do, but the idea of living here again seemed to put him on edge.

Bill scoffed. "You wouldn't be so keen to come back here if you had to live with our mother. Woman's a menace. Blooming evil..." the rest was mumbled so quietly that it was difficult to make out the words, but what Harry did catch was none to flattering on the Weasley matriarch.

Charlie nodded. "She still doesn't approve of Fleur then?"

Bill shook his head. "Not in the slightest. Ginny and her have taken to calling her 'Phlegm' when they think we can't hear them." He scowled darkly. "And let's not even get started on the way Ron practically drowns in his own drool when he sees her." At Harry's confused look he explained further. "Fleur, my wife, is a Quarter-Veela on her mother's side. Even at a quarter blood they project an Allure, like an aura of pheromones. Drives weak-minded men mad with lust and desire. Luckily Fleur can control hers somewhat or else I fear Ron may have already tried to force himself on her."

Charlie slapped him on the shoulder in a supportive way. "Hey, it isn't all bad, Billy Boy. You can always just stick to hanging out with me and the Twins."

Bill smiled and agreed that that was best, though he did say that he still liked having their dad around.

"What exactly does a Curse-Breaker do?" Harry asked, genuinely curious, and trying to change the subject to something less uncomfortable.

Bill's face lit up much in the same way Charlie's had at the mention of dragons. "Well, I enter Pyramids and tombs ahead of the excavators and check for wards and curses. If I find them I either dispel them or, more often then not, I have to figure out the Runic and Arithmetic properties and either rewrite them or alter them in a way that cancels out the curse so that it's safe for the others to continue through it. Sounds a bit boring but it really isn't."

Harry nodded. "It does sound interesting. I love working with Runes in particular so anything that uses them is of interest to me."

"Well, we're always looking for more help in my department at Gringotts, if teaching here doesn't really suit your fancy feel free to come and talk to me and I'll see if I can get you on with my team."

Harry nodded and thanked him, telling him that he'd think about it. He excused himself and Jimmy from them and he and his brother returned to the library so Jimmy could finish his homework.

He made eye contact with Hermione before he left again. He was both dreading and looking forward to their talk later.

 **XXXX**

Harry, once again, was staring into the fire when Hermione came through his door. As requested, she had come alone, her expression was one of worry and trepidation. Jimmy had been quiet and subdued after their talk by the lake, the gravity of Harry's words sinking in finally when he was returned to the library. While he didn't know what it was that had Harry so worried, he knew that this day could very well be the last time he saw his brother alive and that thought tore at Jimmy's heart.

It tore at Harry's too.

His heart...for so long it was almost as if he didn't have one, and there was a time he would have preferred it that way. After all, they always said that a man with nothing to lose was a dangerous one, but Harry was now realizing that a man with everything to lose was just as dangerous, if not more so. And Harry now had so much to lose, not the least of which was the young witch who had just entered his chambers.

He turned from the fire and smiled slightly at her, waving her in, standing to greet her. "Thank you for coming, Hermione. Please, have a seat."

Hermione sat while Harry walked over and locked and warded the door. "Is everything okay, Harry? You and Jimmy both seemed so...sad when you came back. Has something happened?"

Harry took a deep breath as he sat down opposite her. "You could say that," he told her. "It would be more accurate to say that something is _going_ _to_ happen." He ran a hand through his hair which was getting quite long now and nearing the base of his neck at the back and touching his chin in the front. "I...Dumbledore and I are going somewhere tonight. It's going to be dangerous... _very_ dangerous and I couldn't leave without telling you..."

Hermione bit her lip uncertainly, inching forward in her seat. "Tell me what, Harry?"

Harry took a moment to study her. She was beautiful, even a fool would have a hard time denying that. But her beauty went far beyond just her physical appearance – her cinnamon eyes, chestnut hair that curled gracefully, her small nose, the smooth rounded cheekbones, her full lips that were at their most alluring when she had that knowing smirk on her face – no it went far beyond that. Her mind was what had drawn him in first. She was smart, near prodigy level, but she didn't flaunt it; she was quite reserved in that regard. In fact, all things considered, she was rather conservative all around. She never wore revealing clothes – clothes that flattered her figure, yes, but she never showed overt or even noticeable amounts of skin – and she was humbled and shy about her intelligence – except in class, where she could be counted on time and again to always have the right answer or pick up the new spells with relative ease.

Harry was not one to believe in equality, but he was starting to believe that he had found as close to his equal as could be found at their age. There was a blossoming love growing in him for this demure young woman, and he was done running from it.

Harry took a steadying breath. "You...you mean a lot to me, Hermione," he said, mentally kicking himself. That wasn't what he had meant to say, even if it was still the truth.

"You mean a lot to me too, Harry," Hermione said back.

Harry shook his head. "No. I mean I like you." Damn it all, why was this so bloody difficult?

Hermione frowned. "I like you too, Harry. What's going on?" She was growing more and more concerned with every moment that passed.

Harry cursed under his breath and stood up and began pacing.

Hermione stood as well and went to him, stopping his steps with a gentle hand on his arm. "Talk to me, Harry," she pleaded softly, looking up at him with those brilliant eyes.

Harry grasped one of her hands, bringing it up in both of his, looking at it, running his fingers lightly over it, studying it. "I don't know how to put it into words," he admitted. He knew what he _wanted_ to say, but he was afraid of saying it. It would make it real and then there was no going back.

Hermione smiled reassuringly at him, bringing her other hand up to still his. "Take your time."

Harry shook his head. "Time." He laughed humorlessly. "The one thing I may not have much of."

Finally, playing Dumbledore's words in his head again, he threw caution to the wind and leaned in close, pressing his lips against hers in a soft but searing kiss.

Hermione's eyes widened momentarily and her body stiffened. Harry had one brief moment where he feared that he had messed up and ruined everything before she closed her eyes and her lips moved against his. He released her hands, instead putting his arms around her and pulling her closer. She responded by wrapping her own arms around his neck, one hand snaking into his dark hair.

Finally, after a long moment that seemed an eternity, they pulled apart, foreheads touching and their breathing a bit heavy. "What is this you are doing to me, Hermione Granger?" Harry asked seriously.

Hermione chuckled. "I believe it's called 'kissing', Harry."

Harry exhaled a laugh. "Not what I meant." He kissed her again, softer this time. When they pulled away again, he said, "I think I'm falling in love with you."

Hermione was quiet for a moment, her eyes alight. "That's good, because I think I've already fallen in love with you."

Harry sighed contently, not believing his luck - not that he believed in luck at all - and hugged her close, her head resting on his chest. "I have some catching up to do then."

"I can help with that," Hermione teased.

Harry wasn't sure how it had happened, but they somehow ended up in his bedroom, in his bed. It was a blur of lips, limbs and bared skin; of gasps, moans and stifled cries. At the end, he was laying with Hermione curled up in his arms breathing deeply, verging on sleep. He himself was processing what had just occurred. He just laid there, holding her, his mind a fog of mixed feelings. He was happy, but that happiness was tinged with fear. The latter because he worried that things had rushed between them since that first kiss, but he refused to feel guilty about it or regret because if things went unfortunately tonight, he wanted to die with this memory in his heart.

He didn't know how long he was there with her, but at some point Hermione had fallen asleep. He lifted his fingers and cast a silent spell and the time appeared in fiery figures in the air. It was time to go meet Dumbledore.

He sighed sadly and slipped from the bed, being careful not to wake Hermione. He dressed silently, donning the same outfit he had worn to Malfoy Manor the previous night, minus the cloak. He paused at the door of the bedroom and went back to he bed, making sure Hermione was fully covered by the blankets, and kissed her softly on the head. "I love you," he whispered to her. He didn't know if it was true, but what he had said earlier was, and he knew he would regret it if he didn't say it at least once, even if she couldn't hear him.

He went out to the sitting room and took out a piece of parchment and a quill and ink. He wrote slowly, clearly, not wanting his words to be mistaken.

He wrote everything. The truth. Who he was, what he was, what he was going to do. And he apologized for lying to her the whole time. He knew that mere words could not make up for what he had done, what he was about to do, and he said as much in the letter. He only hoped that some day she would be able to forgive him for all of this, and that she'd still love him when it was all over.

He'd only had this one night with her, but it was a night he'd cherish in his heart until he died, which given what was to come, may not be too long from now. No, he decided, not until he died. To then, and beyond.

He folded the letter and wrote her name on it, setting it on top of the book on the low table by his favorite chair by the fire, putting a light 'compulsion charm' - something Barty had invented after they watched a muggle film called 'Star Wars' - on it to make sure she found it when she woke.

That done, he exited the room, closing and locking the door behind him, but not before stopping and taking one last look back at the bedroom where his heart remained fast asleep.

 **XXXX**

He found Dumbledore already waiting for him at the top of the Astronomy Tower. Dumbledore took in Harry's appearance, noting something that was probably not visible to the human eye and smiled in a grandfatherly manner at him. "I was beginning to wonder if you were going to come at all."

Harry ran a hand through his hair. "Sorry, sir."

Dumbledore just smiled even more. "You have nothing to be sorry for, my boy." He cocked his head. "To see the man you have grown to be..." He sighed. "Come, we have a long way to go." He held out his hand to Harry, who took it after a moment of hesitation.

Harry felt the all too familiar tug behind his navel as Dumbledore apparated them away from the castle. Harry wondered how this was possible, as no one was supposed to be able to apparate within the wards of Hogwarts. Perhaps, being Headmaster, he had special privileges. Or maybe the Astronomy Tower was outside the wards.

All of these thoughts were wiped from his mind though when he got a face full of sea spray. The waves crashed like thunder around them and Harry raised an arm to block his eyes as another splash of sea water crashed over him.

He looked around them, taking in the rocky crags and the grey, churning sea. He did not recognize the area and there were no noticeable land marks within sight. "Where are we?" he asked.

"We are but several miles south of Broadchurch," Dumbledore said. "Young Tom Riddle was brought here once on a field trip with the orphanage. There is a cave, just there, that I believe may be the hiding place of our final Horcrux."

He pointed ahead of them and Harry could just make out what looked like the entrance to a cave in the rock face. They walked carefully along the slippery rocks until they reached the cave. They went inside, Dumbledore raising his wand and lighting the tip for them to see by.

When they reached the back of the cave, which was only about twenty meters deep, they found naught but a blank wall of wet stone. Harry frowned. "There doesn't appear to be anything here." He waved his hand over the wall and felt the tingle of a ward. "Wait.."

Dumbledore hummed and reached into his robes. "Yes. Tom was not so stupid or arrogant to leave this open for all to see." He pulled a knife out of his robes and cut his palm, then rubbed the blood on the stone wall, hissing lightly at the rough contact on the fresh wound.

The wall shimmered a moment then faded into nothing. "A weakness payment," Harry muttered, recognizing the magic.

Dumbledore grimaced in agreement. "Indeed. A blood sacrifice." He healed his hand with a wave of his wand. "It is a common misconception, but one what Tom readily believes, that physical pain weakens us. You and I both know that this is false, do we not?"

Harry silently agreed that this was so and followed Dumbledore inside. What greeted them was an eerie sight. They found themselves standing on the banks of a large black underground lake. Harry could not see how wide it was, the distant banks lost to the shadows of the vast, dimly lit cave; the ceiling too was lost in the inky blackness.

Harry, who usually felt right at home in the dark, knew that there was something sinister about this place. It wasn't the dark, but what was _in_ it.

The only thing that broke the darkness was a misty, greenish colored light in the center – or so he assumed – of the lake, on what looked to be a small rocky island.

Harry raised his own wand and ignited the tip as bright as was possible. As he had expected, the rays of light only pierced a few meters into the dense shadow. This darkness was not true darkness, not fully, it was augmented by artificial, man-made darkness.

Nearby there was a small wooden boat, big enough to fit two people, but not comfortably. Harry and Dumbledore exchanged glances before climbing in. "Be careful, Harry. Do not touch the water. I get the feeling that there is something in those depths we would rather not have to face."

Harry looked down into the still, mirror-like surface of the water and understood exactly what Dumbledore meant. There was something unnerving about the water, the way the ripples seemed to die far too quickly when they entered the boat, to the way its surface was undisturbed as the boat began gliding them across the water of its own volition. The further out they went, the greater the sense of dread became.

"There's definitely something in there," Harry agreed, looking over the edge of the boat and resisting the urge to dip his hand down into it. At this distance, it almost resembled ink rather than water and he was curious to see if it would look just as black if he cupped it in his hands. He shook the thought away and tore his gaze away from the flat reflective surface.

"Yes. The darkness is something we have nothing to fear from, though Voldemort would disagree with me. Voldemort fears the dark, you see, and he believes that all others share his fear. Just as he fears the darkness, both within and without, he also fears death." Dumbledore shook his head sadly. "It is nothing more than the unknown that we truly fear when we think of death. He reveals his lack of wisdom by not understanding this."

By the time they reached the island, Harry was using every bit of his will not to throw himself over the edge of the boat into the water. He clambered out of the boat quickly, Dumbledore close behind, both making sure not to touch the lake in any way. He hid it well, but Harry could see that the Headmaster had felt it too.

"Some sort of charm," he said, looking at the boat curiously. He waved his wand over it. "That should fix that. Now, let's see what Tom has left for us."

Harry and Dumbledore approached the center of the small island where a strange, stone basin sat. Within it was a green potion, thick and cloudy. Nothing could be seen through it, not the bottom of the basin, nothing at all.

"Do you think the Horcrux is in there?" Harry asked, trying to poke the potion with his finger but he was stopped short just an inch or so above it by an invisible force.

Dumbledore frowned. "Perhaps." he picked up a cup from the edge of the basin that looked to be made from a shell of some sort. "I fear there is only one way to find out."

Harry put a hand out and still the cup as Dumbledore made to dip it in the potion. "I don't think we should do that." He was thinking of when Kreacher had told him about Regulus taking him to a cave and having to drink a foul potion to get the Horcrux. Could this be something similar? Was it the same cave? If it was, that meant that what was hiding beneath those still waters were Inferi. But if it was a different cave, it could be something else down there; something worse.

Dumbledore smiled. "Your concern is appreciated, Harry, but we must do what must be done to get the Horcrux.

"Then let me do it, sir. I'm younger, more physically strong," Harry reasoned.

Dumbledore shook his head. "No. If my suspicions are true, this potion will be one to affect the mind and will of the drinker, and I am far more experienced in such matters." Coming from anyone else's mouth these words would have sounded arrogant or boastful, but from Dumbledore they were humble and had the ring of truth to them.

Harry was forced to concede the point. "Let me at least see if it can be removed another way first." He drew his wand and proceeded to try everything he could think of to get rid of the potion. It was no use though and the potion did not so much as ripple.

He gave up and motioned for Dumbledore to proceed with his mad plan.

Dumbledore dipped the cup into the potion, filling it to the brim. As he raised it, Harry noticed that the cup was enchanted to prevent even a single drop from spilling out. Dumbledore paused with the cup halfway to his lips. "Whatever happens, Harry, you must make sure that I drink all of it. It is the only way to reach the Horcrux. Even if you must force this potion down my throat, you will do it."

Harry nodded and Dumbledore drained the cup in two large swallows. There was no outward reaction and Dumbledore plunged the cup into the potion once more. He drained it again, and again. During the fourth cup-full, he fell forward, one arm bracing him against the basin, his breathing was heavy and with trembling fingers raised the cup and drained the rest of what was inside.

"I...I don't want...don't want any more..."

Harry steeled himself and took the cup from Dumbledore. Now it was time to be cold and cruel. It was time to be the monster he was once more.

Relief flickered over the Headmaster's face but it was replaced with horror as Harry refilled the cup and held it up to him. Dumbledore shook his head in a pleading manner, words echoing in the same manner, which was so far from the usually strong and measured but gentle voice he normally spoke in.

Harry pushed the cup to Dumbledore's lips. "You told me to do this, sir." He tipped the cup and Dumbledore was forced to swallow the potion again.

Harry refilled it again.

"Make it stop..." Dumbledore moaned.

Harry pressed the cup to his lips again. "This will make it stop," he lied, forcing him to drain the whole cup again. There was no emotion in his voice.

Harry had gone into his old mindset of nothing mattering. This was his enemy, and he was weakening him. Making his job easier. He would kill him when it was done. He would feel bad about it later...maybe.

Again and again he forced the potion down Dumbledore's throat until finally there was none left in the basin. By this point Harry could see that it was as he had feared. The bottom of the basin was occupied by a locket that looked just like the one back in the Headmaster's Office. This one was a fake. It was the same cave that Regulus had brought Kreacher to. He cursed as he forced the last cup of potion down Dumbledore's throat.

"Water...water..." Dumbledore pleaded, making like he was going to crawl to the edge of the island and drink directly from the lake. Harry could not allow that. There were Inferi down there and there was no way Harry wanted to face that right now.

"Oh no you don't," he said, pulling Dumbledore back. He turned him about and forced his mouth open, pointing his wand into his mouth and casting a light _Aguamenti_. A slow stream of water flowed forth from the tip of his wand and the Headmaster drank greedily. Slowly the color returned to his face and his eyes regained their clarity.

"Thank you, Harry," Dumbledore said once had drank his fill. Harry canceled the charm and helped the Headmaster to his feet. "Did we find it?"

Harry shook his head in disgust. "No, sir. It's a fake." He picked up the fake locket and opened it. A small piece of parchment fell out of it and Harry knelt to pick it up. He unfolded it, recognized the writing, and read aloud, " _To the Dark Lord, I know I will probably be dead long before you read this but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face whatever comes in the hope that when you finally meet your match you will be mortal once more. R.A.B._ "

Harry handed the parchment to Dumbledore to read over as well. Harry sighed. This had been a wasted trip. Regulus had been here years ago and now they were no closer than they had already been to finding the last Horcrux. Unless his earlier theory about it being Nagini was of any merit.

Dumbledore frowned. "R.A.B.? Who could that be?"

"Regulus Arcturus Black," Harry answered before he could stop himself. "I saw his name on a tapestry in Sirius' house over the holidays. Same initials," he explained half-truthfully at Dumbledore's curious expression.

Dumbledore considered. "Hm. It could be. Regulus was a Death Eater. He has not been seen or heard from in some time. I fear he may be dead... He seems to think it a likely outcome in here," he waved the letter about for emphasis. "If he found out about the Horcruxes somehow and came after this one, then he must have turned on Voldemort. He most likely hid the real Horcrux amongst the family jewels and trophies at Grimmauld Place, where it remained until you came across it."

"Sir, is it possible to make a living creature into a Horcrux?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore thought. "I should think that it is possible, yes. Though perhaps not as preferable. Why do you ask?"

Harry told him, "When I was staking out Malfoy Manor, I saw him, Voldemort. He had a large snake with him. He always kept it close. I was thinking that perhaps he had made it into a Horcrux."

"That could very well be," Dumbledore allowed. "Whether it is or not, it will have to be killed when you fight him." Harry didn't have time to ponder the knowing tone that Dumbledore had just spoken those word with before the Headmaster was walking back to the water's edge.

Dumbledore climbed back into the boat, but as he was still somewhat weakened from the potion, he slipped and one of his feet broke the surface of the lake as he caught himself. Harry curse as the surface of the lake suddenly exploded upwards as what looked to be near a hundred Inferi broke the surface and began swimming and jumping toward them.

Harry jumped into the boat and Dumbledore climbed in with him. With a wave of his hand, Harry sent the boat moving back across the lake at a much quicker pace than it had taken then to the island at. Dumbledore had his own wand out and was waving it in a circular motion, muttering an incantation under his breath.

Suddenly they were surrounded by a swirling wall of flames. The Inferi that had been jumping at them burst into flames when they made contact with the fire, and those that were swimming either did the same or ducked under the surface to pass beyond it.

These one's were cut down by Harry and sank back into the depths. He knew that it would take more than a few well-aimed cutting curses to kill the Inferi and that they would be back again, but he was buying them time and that was all that mattered at the moment.

Harry felt confident that they would make it when he felt the boat touch the bank of the lake. Dumbledore released his spell as they climbed out of the boat but Harry was grabbed at the last second by an Inferius and they tumbled to the ground. Harry rolled so that he was facing his enemy and struck it hard across the face with his fist. This did little damage but it gave Harry a chance to level his wand and cast _Sectumsempra_. The spell cut through the rotted, decayed body and it fell apart on top of him.

Another came at him almost immediately and he shot off a hasty cutting curse, severing its water-bloated head from its equally deformed body. It collapsed in front of him with a sickeningly wet squelch.

Suddenly a wall of flames appeared between Harry and the rest of the undead horde, cutting off their advance.

Harry scrambled backwards away and he felt a pair of strong hands haul him to his feet. He didn't even bother to thank Dumbledore as the two of them rushed out of the cave. Dumbledore grabbed his hand once more and disapparated them back to the Astronomy Tower.

When their feet touched the stone floors Dumbledore collapsed to one knee. Harry knelt next to him and pulled him back to his feet after a moment. Dumbledore was breathing heavily and his brow was coated in sweat.

Harry was about to suggest they go back to the Headmaster's Office, when an all-too-familiar voice split the silence from somewhere below them.

" _Morsmordre!_ "

Harry froze, his blood running cold. He knew that voice. It was Barty. What was he doing here? How had he gotten there? His heart sank. Malfoy had gotten the Cabinet working. The sky above them was suddenly filled with pale green light as the Dark Mark exploded into existence in the sky above the castle.

He barely had time to think this before the door of the Tower burst open and Draco Malfoy himself came through, wand raise. " _Expelliarmus!_ "

Harry batted the spell away with his hand and glared at the blonde boy. He drew his wand and faced him. Draco sneered. "Get out of the way, Potter."

Harry shook his head. "This is not the way, Draco." His real meaning was silent. _This kill is MINE_.

Draco faltered for only a second. "Maybe not the way you intended, but it is the new way. Now move. I have to do this."

Harry stood his ground. "No you don't." He hoped Draco understood that he was giving him an out, but only this once.

Draco took a step back, his face showing hesitation.

Dumbledore was leaning against the rampart behind them, looking very old and weak.

"You are not alone, are you, Draco?" the Headmaster asked. "Where are the others?"

Draco shot a look over his shoulder. "We ran into some of your damned Order. They're battling it out down there. I came on ahead. I have a job to do you see...he chose _me_."

Harry growled at the implication.

"It would seem you are betrayed, Harry," Dumbledore said quietly, but the words echoed like the knell of a funeral bell, striking Harry to the core and he felt a weight like lead settle in his stomach.

"Sir?" he asked, feigning confusion.

Dumbledore smiled gently at him. "Fret not, my boy. I am not angry with you. It isn't your fault. We all must play the hand we are dealt."

Harry was reeling. "How...how long have you know?"

"Oh, I've known who and what you are for quite some time, Harry," Dumbledore said. "You hid it quite well, I must say, but I have seen many things, and learned many things. They say you can see a man's soul through his eyes, and I have seen yours, Harry."

Harry lowered his wand from Draco and turned to look at Dumbledore fully. "I underestimated you," he said. He was annoyed with himself.

Dumbledore shook his head. "No, dear boy. Not knowing isn't the same as underestimating. It was a mistake anyone could make. I must admit to several over the years, and most recently I failed _you_. I beg your forgiveness for that."

Harry cocked his head in a questioning manner.

"I sought to change you. To let the light push out your darkness and use you for my own purposes. But it was not to be so. The dark is part of you in a way that it never was for Voldemort."

Harry sighed. "It's too late for me, sir."

Dumbledore smiled in an almost proud way. "Yes, I quite agree. However, just because you cannot change who you are, does not mean that you were not meant for great things."

Harry suddenly recalled what the centaur Firenze had said. _"Your eyes have the stink of destiny about them."_

At that moment Harry heard more footsteps coming up the stairs and he raised his wand to Dumbledore. " _Expelliarmus_." Dumbledore's wand flew from his hand and Harry plucked it out of the air, tucking it away in his pocket quickly.

A second later the room was filled with black robes. Bellatrix, the Carrows, the LeStrange brothers, Greyback, Gibbon, Rowle, Yaxley, Selwyn...they were all here, except Barty, whom he had heard, but was not in the room now. Where was he?

Bellatrix took in the sight before her and cackled madly, joyously. "Well, well, Potter. Looks like the Dark Lord was mistaken. He thought you were going to go off and go turncoat." She walked up behind him and leaned in to his ear, her lips making the briefest of contact with his neck. "I'm glad to see that this was _not_ the case."

Harry suppressed a shudder. "You all doubted me?" he asked, his voice dangerously low.

"Oh no," Bella cooed, her hands wrapping around him from behind, her nails digging into his chest slightly. It took all of Harry's willpower to not throw her off at once. " _I_ didn't. But your father, well, he feared you might be drawn back to the light if left unsupervised. That's why he tasked Draco to keep an eye on you, and do the deed in your place if you were compromised."

She pulled back from him slightly, her long nails grazing against his body in what would normally be a seductive manner, but it was a wasted effort on Harry.

"Now, _do it_ ," she hissed, her hot breath on his flesh making a chill shoot down his spine. It was not a pleasant feeling.

Harry sighed and raised his wand again, pointing it at Dumbledore. Dumbledore stood smiling at Harry, like a grandfather looking at his favorite grandchild. "It's okay, Harry. I do not fear death. To the well-organized mind death-

"-is but the next great adventure," Harry finished with him. He smiled lightly nodding.

"That's right," Dumbledore nodded.

"For what it's worth, Albus," Harry said. "I hope we can meet again in the next life. Under better circumstances."

Dumbledore smiled even wider, his eyes twinkling. "I'd like that very much, Harry."

Harry sighed. For the Greater Good... " _Avada Kedavra._ "

The jet of green light shot out from the tip of his wand and struck the headmaster squarely in the chest. The smile never left his face as he fell back, his height and weight carrying his body over the rampart to fall down into darkness of the grounds below.

Harry darted to the ramparts and looked over, casting a silent _Ar_ _resto Momentum_ on the Headmaster's body. A fall from this height would utterly destroy a body, and he did not wish for the greatest wizard of their time to meet such a gruesome fate, even if he was already dead.

There was a loud cracking noise from behind them and everyone spun on their heels see what it was.

Harry felt an icy cold hand clamp his heart as he saw Jimmy standing there, two broken Butterbeer bottles at his feet, the creamy amber liquid spreading around his feet.

Bellatrix looked between Harry and the boy, noting the resemblance. A wicked smile grew upon her pale face.

"Harry?" Jimmy asked, his voice very small. His eyes were wide with fear and tears were streaming down his eyes.

Harry opened his mouth to speak but a flash of green light lit up the room and Jimmy collapsed to the floor, unmoving, his eyes wide and unseeing. Harry noticed Bellatrix lower her wand as the world went still around him.

In a daze, he stood there, looking at the body of his only brother. He distantly heard the mad cackling of Bellatrix as she skipped off out of the Tower with most of the Death Eaters in tow. Draco and the LeStrange brothers remained, gaping at what had just happened.

Harry walked over and dropped to his knees by his brother, his hands shaking as they reach out and pulled him into his lap. He could not form a coherent thought. He was numb...and he didn't notice the LeStrange brothers slip out of the room.

Thoughts began to slowly filter back into his mind. He noted a map with moving names on it. That must have been how he knew where Harry was, and the Butterbeer, he must have wanted to celebrate Harry returning safe and sound with the Headmaster. Foolish boy...foolish boy...

Harry felt the first tears slip down his cheeks and it was like a bolt of lightning to his senses. His vision focused and he found himself looking into the empty eyes of his dead brother. He wasn't sure where it had come from, but a heart-wrenching, primal scream split his lungs, echoing out into the night. He clutched his brothers body desperately as sobs wracked his form.

The sound of a shoe scuffing on stone drew his attention and he snapped his head in the direction it had come from.

He caught sight of Draco and he saw red. Without so much as a warning, he lunged to his feet and ran toward Draco. Draco ran toward the winding stairs and was making a good start but Harry used the railing as a vault and launched himself over it. He crashed down onto Draco, slamming him into the stone wall hard with all the force of his fall, then grabbed his head in both hands and hit it against the wall until the blonde boy went limp, crimson blood staining the platinum locks.

Whether he was dead or just unconscious didn't matter anymore. He was after one person and one person only. Bellatrix LeStrange.

He ran down the stairs and through the corridors.

He caught up to Gibbon first. And with a flick of his wand the man fell dead at his feet. Harry marched on without even glancing at his corpse.

Selwyn met the same fate, despite his attempt to plead. Harry was not feeling merciful this night. No. His heart was dead and felt like a stone in his chest. There would be no mercy tonight. Not for any of them.

On the second floor Harry found Bill and Charlie. Bill was laying on the floor, blood covering his face and chest while Charlie was working to keep him conscious.

Harry ignored them and went by without stopping, not even hearing as Charlie called out to him.

It was at the top of the stairs that led down to the Entrance Hall he finally caught up with Bellatrix. She had come bouncing out of the Great Hall like a happy, demented bunny and Harry's vision narrowed onto just her.

She caught sight of him in the same instant, took in his expression and drew her wand. Harry descended the stairs, his own wand held at his side.

"You come to kill me?" Bellatrix asked, grinning like a madwoman.

Harry nodded. "Yes."

Bellatrix smirked. "Let's see what you've got then? _Avada Kedavra!_ "

Harry side-stepped the curse and fired back one of his own. She ducked it and shot back. They continued like this for a moment, circling each other and firing killing curses. Harry now had his back to the doors and Bellatrix began backing up the stairs.

She fired another Killing Curse and Harry dodged, shooting off a Killing Curse followed immediately by a _Sectumsempra_ as he did. He heard a surprised and pained cry and knew that his second curse had hit home as she tried to dodge his first one.

He ran up the stairs and kicked her wand away. She was bleeding profusely, one of the cuts hitting her in the neck. She was choking on her own blood. This wasn't enough for Harry. He dropped his own wand and grabbed her by the hair with one hand, then smashed the other into her face once, twice, three times. This still wasn't enough. He slammed her head into the stair beneath her, then stood and stomped hard on her ribs, feeling them shatter under his boot. She coughed, blood spurting out of her mouth. She tried to laugh but he stomped again, this time on her chest. A moment later she released a final thick gurgle then went still, her lips still lifted slightly in a final smile, mocking him in his victory.

The red haze faded away slowly and he became aware of his surroundings. Sounds of screaming and explosions rushing in, no longer the dull roar that they had previously been. He gazed out at the grounds, seeing them lit up in a dazzling display of light as curses flew in all directions.

"What have you done?"

Harry looked around to see Barty standing there, wand in hand, his mask clutched in the other one.

Harry frowned, realizing that he did not have a wand, except for Dumbledore's and that was in his pocket. There was no way he could beat Barty in terms of speed. He'd be dead before his fingers so much as touched that Elder.

Barty and he stood there, silently facing each other down. The sounds of conflict could be heard from out on the grounds. The Aurors must have come back from the Forest. "Are you going to kill me, Barty?"

Barty grimaced. "It's certainly what's expected of me. You know what this means, Harry. You've killed his favorite, he won't let that go."

Harry did not feel any remorse. "She killed my brother."

Barty's expression flickered. "This woman was the Dark Lord's favorite. He-"

"SHE KILLED MY BROTHER!" Harry screamed. "She killed him. Cut him down like he didn't matter. He was a child, Barty. We don't kill children. Blood begets blood. A life for a life. Blood _must_ have blood!"

"And where does it _end_?" Barty demanded. "He'll kill more for this. Then you'll kill more. _Where does it end?_ I'll tell you. It won't stop until either you're both dead or the world burns."

"It will end when I kill _him_. I already planned to, but now I have a real reason." He glared. "He moves against any of my friends, he seals his fate. And if the world has to burn for it end, then so be it." He held his hands out in an inviting manner. "Now kill me, or let me go."

Barty still had his wand pointed at Harry but Harry could see the conflict in his eyes and he fought with himself on what course to take. After a long, tense moment, he lowered it. "Run, Harry. Run far. Run away and don't look back."

Harry nodded and ran out onto the grounds, not bothering to pick up his wand. He could get a new one if Dumbledore's didn't work for him. Behind him Barty pulled his mask back on and set off to the grounds at a slower pace after stopping to kneel pick up the forgotten rod of Holly and Phoenix Feather.

Harry ran past the Aurors, who were helping Hagrid put out the fire of his burning house, which must have been used as a diversion by the fleeing Death Eaters. He reached the edge of the wards and apparated away, leaving the castle of Hogwarts, a trail of dead bodies, and his beloved Hermione far behind.

 **XXXX**

 **A/N: Holy Hel that chapter was exhausting to write. A freaking roller-coaster of emotion on my end. I was feeling it all with these characters. Gods that was...damn. I'M SORRY that it took so long. I couldn't get it to a point where I liked it and then my internet decided to go on the fritz and I couldn't post. Sorry again.**

 **This chapter was fueled by coffee, pistachios and the wonderfully amazing tunes of Miracle of Sound.**

 **Charlie is portrayed in my mind by Doctor Who and Legends of Tomorrow actor Arthur Darvill, if anyone wanted to know. His overall appearance and attire is inspired by the latter. Bill is the same as his film counterpart and Jimmy would probably be Tom Holland from In the Heart of the Sea, with Chris Hemsworth and Cillian Murphy; young Voldemort is in it as well (Frank Dillane). Good film.**

 **I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Let me know!**

 **This was perhaps the hardest chapter I've ever written, ever. So much happened in here and things will never be the same in this story again. Harry's on the run from Voldemort; Barty, his best friend, is on the opposing side; Hermione will awaken to find out that her lover is a cold-blooded killer; Jimmy is dead; Dumbledore is dead; James doesn't know yet that his youngest son is dead, nor does Lily; The Ministry will be after Harry as well; is Draco dead? Things hit the fan in a big way.**

 **Let me know your thoughts. I like knowing your thoughts...that's creepy. Why would you think that? I feel dirty now...**

 **Anyway.**

 **THANK YOU. All of you.**


	22. Godric's Hollow

**XXII. Godric's Hollow**

He was back. Back where it had all begun. It seemed a lifetime ago, and perhaps in some ways it was. He was not the same as he was then; hell, he wasn't the same man he had been at this time last year. No, the Harry Potter that now stood amongst the ruins of the old Potter house at Godric's Hollow not the helpless child who had been taken from this place by a deranged Dark Lord sixteen years ago and he was not the empty, directionless killer he had been for as long as he could remember. A killer he remained, but the strings had been cut and his direction was clear, and for once chosen by him. He was a marionette no more.

He sifted through the rubble, using wandless magic to move what debris had to be moved and leaving the rest where it was. Finally, he found what he had been hoping to find. A trapdoor. A basement. A dark hole in the ground. A place he could call home, for a time.

He climbed down in the darkness, pulling the debris back over the opening before closing the door behind him. He had already cast several wards around the place in addition to the muggle-repelling charms and very specific notice-me-not charms already in place around the entire lot. It seemed that this place had become a memorial of sorts for magicals following his disappearance.

He let his eyes adjust to the blackness, which didn't take very long. The basement wasn't anything special, just an open space with a few boxes and crates here and there. Nothing of any real use, he suspected.

He went over and opened one, peering inside. Just some gardening tools. He vanished the contents and set the crate aside. The next was some old clothing, far too deteriorated to wear. He moved this box to join the crate. He went through the rest of the boxes and crates, vanishing what was junk and keeping what could be used, stacking the boxes and crates in a corner for later use. By the time he was finished he had an oil lamp, a few candles, a fire-starting kit and a few blankets that weren't too moth-eaten.

"Dobby," Harry spoke quietly, knowing the Elf would hear him even if he whispered.

A small _pop_ signaled the little Elf's arrival. He bowed low. "Mister Harry Potter Sir, what can Dobby be doing for you?"

Harry tried to smile at his faithful friend and servant. "Dobby, I need you to bring me some things from my room in Malfoy Manor and also from Hogwarts. Can you do that?"

Dobby shook his head. "The Manor I's can do, but Hogwarts is not being able to be entered anymore."

Harry raised his brow. "What do you mean, Dobby? Why can't you go to Hogwarts?"

Dobby fidgeted, wringing his small hands. "Forgive Dobby, Mister Harry Potter Sir, but they has new wards, sir. Wards that keep House Elves from going in or out of the school. The Savage One did it, sir. I's spoke to one of the Elves there through the Wards, and they's told me all about it."

Harry nodded slowly. Inside he was cursing. "Savage. That clever bastard. Most wizards pay no mind to House Elves, but him...he knows what they can do. Dobby, go to Malfoy Manor and gather all of my belongings from there and bring them here. _Everything_."

Dobby bowed. "Yes, Mister Harry Potter Sir."

A moment later, all of Harry's belongings appeared in the basement and he set about arranging everything to his liking. He put his desk against the back wall along with his book shelves which flanked it, though they stood bare and empty as all of his books were in his trunk and on his shelves at Hogwarts. He hung his lanterns and torches around the room, setting the lamp he had found on the back corner of the desk and stashed the candles in one of the drawers. He used the blanket he had found here and added them to what he had used as a bed in his dungeon. His mask was hung on the wall above his desk, like before.

He sat down in his chair, looking around at the dark, underground room. Back to basics. Not that was a bad thing, in fact he rather found this to be of some comfort. It felt like coming home after so long away. However, his heart was still heavy.

Why did it feel like something was missing?

He scoffed and scolded himself for attempting to play stupid. He knew full well why. He had made a mistake. He had gotten too close to the light and been blinded and burned for his efforts. He would be lying if he said that he regretted it though.

It was a lesson, one well-learned. Up there, in the sun, there was no place for him. Had he been more careful, he would have never gotten close to Jimmy, and the boy might not be dead now. He would have never let Hermione touch his heart and she would not wake up to a nightmare like she inevitably would, if she had not already done so.

He had no illusions about his role in the night's events coming to light; his letter would see to that. Savage had already proven himself to be smart by seeing a larger picture than the vast majority of magicals. He saw the House Elves, knew their abilities, and cut off that advantage faster than Harry would have thought. And no doubt he would find a way to get to the truth of the matter. If any of the Death Eaters had been captured, their memories could be accessed to see what had happened. He wondered if Barty had made it out, but pushed the thought aside. It didn't matter anymore. Barty was, for all intents and purposes, his enemy now. He was all alone, and for the first time in his life he truly felt it.

He sat down on his bed of blankets and closed his eyes. It had been some time since he meditated. He needed that calm and comfort now. So, steadying his breathing, he let himself slip down into that place deep within himself and the shadow overtook him.

 **XXXX**

Hermione stirred, her mind slowly working through the fog of sleep.

The first thing she became aware of was that she was warm and relatively comfortable, and that she felt better rested than she had ever felt after a night of sleep at Hogwarts.

The second thing was that her body ached slightly, with a concentration of that ache centered at that certain point between her legs. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling, she decided with a blush, her mind conjuring up image after image of what activities she and Harry had gotten up to the previous night. She felt a smile tugging at her lips at the memory. Harry and her had made love, and it was glorious; given the relative discomfort of the first few minutes as her maidenhead was broken, she had to say that it had been quite pleasing as far as first times go; at least she thought so – she had heard some 'horror' stories about how much it hurt from her dorm-mates but perhaps they had simply had bad experiences. She certainly hadn't. She chalked that up to how gentle and attentive Harry had been, despite the urgency of their actions.

The third thing she came to notice was that she was alone in the bed.

She peeled her eyes open and looked at the place Harry had been laying the night before when she had fallen asleep, wrapped up lovingly in his arms. He was not there, her eyes confirmed the deduction that her mind had made beforehand. She reached over with her hand and felt the bed where he should have been and found the sheets and pillow cold. He had not been there for some time. Frowning, she sat up in the bed, wincing at the ache in her body as she did. She didn't bother covering herself up as the blanket fell away to reveal her naked form; after what had happened the night before it was far too late for such discretion.

She looked around the moderately sized but sparsely decorated bedroom and found that she was well and truly alone. A sense of fear began to well up in her as she took this information in; it felt something like a fear of rejection or something of that nature. Why had Harry left before she woke up? She had heard stories about this sort of thing happening when a man didn't want anything more than to 'hit and quit' as her more experienced classmates had so bluntly put it.

She pushed that thought away. Harry wasn't that type of man. Besides, she was in _his_ bed in _his_ room. If he wanted to avoid her he'd have a hell of a hard time doing it. Besides that, there were classes and such as well, so that couldn't be it. Maybe he had been called away. Or maybe he was out there in his favorite chair reading or just staring into the fire like he did sometimes.

The image of Harry sitting with his eyes glued to the fire with that pensive expression on his face brought a smile to her lips again and made a familiar tingle spread through her. Watching him think was one of her favorite pastimes.

Yes, that must be it. She nodded to herself and swung her legs over the edge of the bed and standing. She turned back to make the bed up as she was used to doing with her own when she noticed the... _evidence_ of what had transpired between those sheets. With a blush, she retrieved her wand from her discarded clothes and did a quick clean-up job on the crisp white linen, leaving it as unstained as the day it was sewn.

That done, she made up the bed and walked to the bathroom, the ache between her legs becoming a bit more prominent with each step. She still refused to think of it as unpleasant.

She bathed languidly, making sure to clean herself thoroughly. Once she was done, she cast cleaning charms on her clothes from the night before and pulled them back on with a slight grimace. She hated wearing the same clothes twice in a row; not because of some misguided sense toward fashion and the forbidden - according to the school gossip and self-professed expert on such matters, Lavender Brown - act of wearing the same outfit twice in a row, but because she didn't think it sanitary. But, she would have to make due with what she had, so she just had to suck it up and deal with it.

She pulled open the door of the bedroom and stepped out into the parlour area of the private living quarters. She turned toward the fireplace with a smile on her face. "Hey, Harry, why weren't you-"

She stopped short when she noticed that Harry was not in his chair by the fire. The fire burned still, but that was because the House Elves kept it going if there was someone in the room. But the only one there was her.

Her smile fell away and that small sense of fear returned before she stamped it down again. There had to be a logical explanation for why Harry wasn't here. Maybe he had some duties as a Professor to see to.

It was then that she noticed the small folded piece of parchment on the table by the chair. She couldn't see it clearly, but she had the sudden urge to go over and read it. Chalking that up to her own insatiable curiosity, she padded over and picked it up before dropping down into the chair, wincing as her lower body made contact with the cushion.

She looked at the parchment, noting that her name was written on the front in Harry's familiar scrawl. She unfolded the letter – for what else could it be? – began to read.

 _Dearest Hermione,_

 _By the time you read this, I will be long gone. I could not stay. Circumstances would not allow it. I did not wish to leave you, but it is the way things have to be. I just hope that when you finish reading this you will still love me, though I fear this is a fool's hope._

 _First, let me say that I have been lying to you since we met. I am sorry, but it had to be done. That does not make it any less wrong, nor does it absolve me of guilt. Nor would I have it so. I got no joy from keeping you in the dark but I did what I had to do._

 _I don't want to lie to you anymore so this is my apology and it is all the truth that I have kept from you for so long._

 _I am a Death Eater. I have been since I was five years old. Voldemort took me from my family and raised me up in his ranks, made me into a killer. And I have killed...so many times. And this night I shall kill again. You see, I was sent here this year to do one thing and that is to kill Albus Dumbledore. Tonight, my mission will come to an end. Either I will kill him or he will kill me. Either way, I will be doing the one thing that I do not wish to do: leaving you._

 _The whole time I have been here I have been lying and manipulating those around me to get closer to the Headmaster and I used you for that purpose. I am sorry. At first, it was because I thought if I got close to someone close to the Order I would arouse less suspicion. But, over time, I came to truly care about you. When I first truly met you, you impressed me with your intelligence and your quiet, humble manner. But also your spirit. If I am being honest, it was the first thing about you that I came to love._

 _Now, all of that subterfuge and illusion will come to fruition tonight. Dumbledore and I are going to find the last Horcrux tonight and once it is in my hands, I will kill him. It must be done. Do not think though that I am going back to Voldemort as a follower. Instead I shall be going as an avenger; a wolf among the sheep. I still intend to kill him, but to do that I need to get close to him and to do that I must fulfill my mission. I must kill Voldemort and to do that i must kill Dumbledore._

 _All of this is the reason for my off behavior yesterday. I spoke to Jimmy so that he would know that I truly cared about him. Just as I spoke to you._

 _Everything I said to you last night was true. I have been falling in love with you for some time now and I know that things will never be the same between us after this but I want you to know that I shall cherish the memory of our time together until the day I die._

 _I won't ask you to forgive me. I won't ask you not to hate me. I won't ask you for anything. But, I would like to thank you. You've been the one good thing about all of this and I will miss you the most. So thank you for all of the love, support and kindness you've shown me. I didn't know those things before I met you and I am forever changed by you. I didn't deserve it or you._

 _I must go now._

 _I am so sorry, my love...may we meet again._

 _\- Harry_

Hermione felt her entire world fall apart as she read the words Harry had written there. Her eyes stung as tears rolled freely down her cheeks.

She shook her head. No. It couldn't be true. It just couldn't. It didn't make any sense. No. It was all a lie. Her Harry wouldn't do that. He was kind and sweet and gentle...

But, no matter how much she tried to tell herself all of this. She knew that what she had read was the truth. She knew it in her heart – her heart that was even now breaking into a million jagged shards.

She read the letter again through her tears, trying to find something that would tell her that this was all a joke, just a cruel prank. But there was nothing. Each line had been written with a careful hand, making sure it was clear and that each word could be read and not mistaken. He had made sure that there would be no doubt about what was written. And now that she knew it all, she could recall moments where she should have seen it, but hadn't.

Hermione felt a sob tear through her and the letter fell from her hands as they came up to her mouth, trying to stifle the scream she felt fighting to be let out. Finally, she couldn't fight it anymore and she cried out. Such a broken, desperate sound had never been heard upon this earth as her entire world fell apart.

She stood up but her legs gave out beneath her and she collapsed into a trembling heap upon the floor.

How long she laid there, she would never know, but soon her tears ran dry and her sobs became dry heaves. She dragged herself off the floor, crawling back into Harry's favorite chair, her head pounding and her eyes burning raw. She picked up the letter and looked at the last lines again.

 _I am so sorry, my love..._

Love. Something she had longed for since she was a little girl. She had thought last night that she had finally found it, that her search was over, only for it to all be ripped away from her in the cruelest way possible. Oh, how the Universe mocked her. She cursed it all, hating it. Why could she never just have the one thing she truly wanted?

 _...may we meet again._

She folded the letter up carefully and stuffed into her pocket. The logical side of her yelled angrily that she should throw it into the fire, along with everything the bastard owned, but the other part of her, the part that had been lonely for so long refused to listen. Right now, in her emotional state, she was in no position to do things logically or rationally. This was how she found herself taking armfuls of books into the bedroom and throwing them into the magically expanded trunk that was left there when Harry left.

If someone had asked her what she was doing, she wouldn't have been able to answer in any way that made sense. Her mind had completely shut itself down and her emotions were so high that she couldn't even feel them anymore. She was on autopilot now, her body going through motions that she had no made no conscious decisions about.

Once all of Harry's personal belongings were stored away, she shrunk the trunk down to the size of a deck of cards and cast a Featherweight Charm on it, stuffing it into her pocket.

Later, she would say that no matter what reprehensible things Harry had done, the knowledge to be found in his books was not something that should be thrown out and lost. Many of those tomes were rare and banned. She would never find them again if these were lost. Such things deserved to be preserved. The fact that such things as Harry's broomstick and clothing were also salvaged was overlooked completely.

Taking one last look at the bed where she had shared the single most intimate time of her life with the man she loved, she stumbled out of the chambers and into the hall, carrying Harry's memory and belongings and the fractals of her broken heart with her.

 **XXXX**

It was several hours before he opened his eyes again. A small _pop_ heralded the arrival of Dobby once more. "Mister Harry Potter Sir," he bowed. "I is finding a bird with a newspaper outside. Shall I retrieve it?"

"The bird or the paper?" Harry asked. Knowing Dobby, it could go either way if he didn't specify.

"Whichever you's is wanting me to, Mister Harry Potter Sir."

Harry shook his head and stood up. "Bring both, please Dobby. But don't hurt the bird in any way."

"Yes, sir!"

Dobby vanished and reappeared again with Rune cawing angrily while perched on his head, pecking at the poor Elf's head.

"Rune, leave him be," Harry ordered; normally he may have chuckled but he was in no mood for laughter now. The raven cawed in protest but flew over to Harry's outstretched arm. He noticed the lack of a paper in his beak or claws. "Where is the paper?"

"Dobby has it here, sir," Dobby said, waving the rolled up newspaper for him to see.

Harry nodded. "Set it on the desk, please, Dobby. And if you could, see if you can get some tea down here. Steal it if you must. Some food too. I'm not sure how long we'll be here, but better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it."

Dobby placed the paper on the desk and bowed again before disappearing.

Harry sighed and transfigured one of the crates into a perch for Rune, who hopped onto it with a plaintive click of his beak.

"It will have to do for now," Harry told his familiar. "You other one is at Hogwarts, and we can't go back there. Not now."

Rune made a sad noise and Harry tried to force a smile, but the effort was futile. He picked up the paper and unrolled it. He knew that news traveled fast in the Wizarding world, but he had hoped for more time before what had happened was released to the public. It was not to be though. The truth will out, as he had heard it said.

 **ALBUS DUMBLEDORE DEAD!**

 **Attack on Hogwarts Ends in Death of Beloved Headmaster**

 **Last night Death Eaters attacked Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. How they managed to infiltrate the school's wards is still unclear but Senior Auror Savage of the Ministry's Anti-Death Eater Task Force has assured us that all efforts are being taken to discover the breach and seal it.**

 **A Death Eater, identified as Thorfinn Rowle, a low level Ministry employee, was captured at the scene by Auror David Graves, grandson of American Magical President Percival Graves, who was sent over to our shores along with Senior Auror Wilson Proudfoot as part of a joint effort between our own Ministry of Magic and the Magical Congress of the United States to bring an end to the reign of terror of the Dark Lord.**

 **Rowle (age, 34) was questioned briefly at the scene by Senior Auror Savage though little information was gained from him. None of the information that was gained has been released as of yet.**

 **Among the dead found was Hogwarts beloved Headmaster Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore (age, 116). Dumbledore had been Headmaster of Hogwarts School for forty years and before that was employed at the School as Professor of Transfiguration. A full article detailing Dumbledore's career will be published in the next issue.**

 **Also among the dead was James Fleamont Potter II (age, 13), son of Auror James Potter and ex-Potions Mistress Lily Potter (née Evans), and younger brother of Harry James Potter (age, 17) who is currently missing.**

 **Known Death Eater Bellatrix LeStrange (age, 46) was also found dead in the School entrance hall. Her cause of death as well as the identity of her killer are as of yet unknown though this reporter overheard the school healer, Madam Poppy Pomfrey, telling the Aurors that the physical damage was quite extensive. While this is a great blow in favor of the Ministry and the Aurors as LeStrange has been linked to at least two dozen murders in the last decade, one has to believe that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named will not take kindly to one of his top lieutenants being taken down. Death Eaters Marcus Selwyn and Joseph Gibbon were also killed in the fray, a lack of any physical injury suggests they were killed by the Killing Curse; a case of friendly fire perhaps?**

 **Other injuries include captured Death Eater Draco Malfoy (age, 17) who sustained severe cranial trauma; William Weasley (age, 27) who was bitten and clawed by werewolf Fenrir Greyback, who was not transformed so Weasley is in no danger of being infected; Charles Weasley (age, 25) received minor injuries battling the Death Eaters with his brother; Rubeus Hagrid (age, 70), Hogwarts resident Half-Giant Gamekeeper, sustained minor burns when the Death Eaters torched his home during their escape.**

 **More on this story as information becomes available.**

Harry folded the paper and set it aside, his mind racing. He had not noticed when Dobby dropped off a tray of tea and scones., nor had he noticed when Rune flapped over and stole a scone for himself.

The reminder of Jimmy's death brought a fresh wave of pain to his heart. It was his fault that the boy had been killed. Had he not told the boy that he was going to be doing something dangerous he would not have been looking for him to return on that accursed map and would not have run off to the Astronomy Tower to meet him upon said return. He would not have seen Harry kill Dumbledore. He would not have died with his memory of his older brother tarnished and shattered in such a way. Harry could not forgive himself for that. Even though Bellatrix had been the one to fire the spell, it was all his fault and he would never forget that.

It would seem that he had not been as thorough as he had thought with Draco. The bastard had lived. He would no doubt be thrown into Azkaban after a trial. Harry would prefer that the little ponce had died, but it seemed that Death was not ready to accept him just yet. Perhaps he had some role to play yet. Everything happened for a reason after all.

As there had been no mention of Barty, Harry had to assume that he had somehow escaped the School before it was locked down. This did not surprise Harry. Barty was smart and skilled at evading detection. It would take more than a few Aurors to catch him, let alone bring him down. He was what Barty himself would have described as a slippery bastard.

By now Voldemort would know of Bellatrix's death. He had to wonder why he had not felt any pain in his Mark yet. Surely the Dark Lord would have all of his Death Eaters out scouring the country for Harry. This silence on his end was cause for worry, or would be if Harry had had energy to devote to such a feeling.

He was strangely glad to hear that Bill and Charlie had survived. He had liked them, despite only having just met them that day; he would trade both of their lives for Jimmy's in a heartbeat though if given the chance. Death didn't work like that though; he knew that all too well.

Dumbledore's death was of course still fresh in his mind, second only to the combination of Jimmy's murder and his subsequent vengeance upon Bellatrix. He barely remembered killing Selwyn and Gibbon, their deaths a blur, insignificant in his mind. They didn't matter to him in life and they mattered even less in death.

Dumbledore however was a life-changing moment. Though he didn't feel like he'd earned it, when the truth came out he would be known as the man who killed Albus Dumbledore, a feat not matched by Voldemort or even the great Grindelwald. Dumbledore had said that he had wanted to change him, to let the light illuminate the darkness inside him, and Harry felt that even though this was lost cause, he was forever changed by having known the old man. All the light had illuminated was that the darkness was not leaving him. As Harry had told him, it was too late for him.

He felt no regret at having killed the man, no indeed he was rather proud of it, but it had not been a murder fueled by hate or rage or mercy; no it was killing spawned from respect and admiration. Draco had been poised to take that kill from him, but Harry was not one to give up what was rightfully his and the Headmaster deserved to die at the hand of someone he saw as an equal, not some foolish boy in over his head with delusions of grandeur.

He pulled out the wand he had taken from the Headmaster and twirled it experimentally in his fingers. He could feel a certain power in this wand that was much different from that of his own personal wand. It resonated with him in a way that the other had not. He wondered idly why this was but decided it was a matter for later thought. It wasn't like he had any other wand on hand anyway.

He inserted the wand into his arm holster and pulled his sleeve down over it. He then noticed the tea he had asked for and poured himself a cup and took one of the scones, chewing it slowly as he drank.

He would have to figure out what his next move would be. He couldn't stay here in hiding forever, not that he had any intention of doing so in the first place. He would have to assume that he was in this fight alone. He had no allies that he knew of, thus for all intents and purposes they didn't exist. It was just him, and Dobby, and Kreacher. He'd made do with less before and he could do it again.

First thing first, he needed to find a way to rid himself of the Dark Mark. It was a liability. He was not sure if he could be tracked using it but he didn't want to take that chance. In addition to this, it could be used to hurt him and he could not permit the Dark Lord to have that sort of advantage over him. To do so would be to invite disaster.

He stood up and stretched his arms and back. He knew of a place he could check out. Perhaps they would know of some way to remove this cursed Mark.

He pulled his half-face mask up over his nose and climbed up the ladder into the sun.

 **XXXX**

 **A/N:All right. I worked diligently to get this chapter out for you all quickly as a way of apologizing for the long wait last time. It isn't the most interesting chapter but there it is. It originally was only about 3000 words, but everyone kept saying that they wanted to see Hermione's reaction so I had to write that in. This was supposed to just be a transitional chapter...**

 **Next chapter will explore the efforts to remove the Dark Mark, as well as possible meetings of allies and the truth revealed to the Wizarding World.**

 **I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, despite its seeming lack of content, at least to my eyes. Feedback is always welcome.**

 **Until next time.**


	23. Markus Scarrs

**XXIII. Markus Scarrs**

Knockturn Alley had not changed in the slightest in all the times that Harry had visited there. He highly doubted that it had changed very much before any of those times either.

Diagon Alley was a booming, bustling hub of activity, shops coming and going, ever changing, save for a few notable and deserving exceptions.

But Knockturn Alley was a different matter altogether. Save for a couple of newer additions like Borgin and Burke, who had only been in business for around a hundred years or so, most of the shops down in this area were damn near ancient and had been passed along from father to son and mother to daughter for generations. One such shop was Markus Scarrs Indelible Tattoos. A small plaque on the door boasted that the practice had been founded in the age before the fall of Rome with a slogan of 'Rome wasn't built in a day, we know, we were there' and 'True beauty is in the eye of a needle'.

Harry had seen the shop many times, having to pass it on the way to the White Wyvern next door, but he had never entered the parlour before. It was time to remedy that.

Harry opened the door to the shop and stepped inside, hearing a bell above the door ring as the door hit it. He closed the door and stood, waiting for someone to come and attend to him. In the center of the room was an old cushioned chair, still well-kept despite the obvious age. Along one wall was a mass of hand-sketched designs ranging from intricate Rune-based images to more common designs like dragons, griffins and other such creatures. A table beneath these was home to needles of varied shape and size, ranging from as small as a tack to as large as a small sword; also some with two heads, three heads all the way up to ten heads. If Harry hadn't known better he would have thought that they were some form of medieval torture devices. Along the opposite wall were portraits of several men, each heavily tattooed; their clothing ranging from fur, to chainmail, to plate armor, to more modern styles. These must be the previous owners.

A door at the back of the room opened and a man whom Harry would guess to be in his thirties or forties stepped out. He was pale – probably from sitting in the parlour away from the sun all hours of the day – heavily bearded and with long, thick, straight brown hair. He looked like he could break a man in half without batting an eyelash. His arms were covered in dark ink depicting trees, runes, monsters and stars. His face also bore several markings on his cheeks and around his eyes.

"Are you Markus Scarrs?" Harry asked.

The man smirked. "Aye. Markus Scarrs the...eh, you know we've lost count at this point." He shrugged. "Co-owner and operated of Markus Scarrs Indelible Tattoos. What can I do for you today, Mister..."

Harry pulled the balaclava down from his face and held out his hand to shake, "King," he answered, adopting his alias. "Harrald King."

Markus shook it. "A pleasure. So, what can I do for you today? Looking to get some ink?"

Harry shook his head. "Perhaps at a later date. Today I have a different matter I would like to look into." He rolled up his left sleeve to reveal his Dark Mark. "I was wondering if there was any way to remove this?"

Markus lifted his arm an looked it over closely. He frowned and ushered Harry into the old chair. He picked up a pair of strange spectacles off the table with the needles and donned them, reaching up and making a few adjustments to the lenses, of which there were several, all different sizes and colors.

"Hmm," he hummed to himself. "I must admit this is interesting work. I have never had the opportunity to examine a Dark Mark up close. I've seen pictures of course but this is much different in person." He made a few more adjustments as he continued to study Harry's arm. "Interesting..."

Harry cocked his head. "What's interesting?"

Markus opened his mouth to speak but was stopped short by the door opening and the bell ringing. Harry and he both looked over at the door to find a dark-skinned man with a bald head and wearing robes that looked distinctly African though styled to leave half of his torso exposed. His visible skin was tattooed with white ink that stood out in stark contrast to his near-ebony flesh.

"Ah," Markus smiled. "Wekesa, come on in. We've only the one customer but you can assist if you want."

Wekesa nodded and walked over to join them, pulling up a chair to examine the Dark Mark as well. "The Dark Mark, eh? We do not do this work, no?" His voice was deep and smooth, radiating power and composure and his accent seemed to match the origins of his robes.

Markus nodded. "No we do not. Mister King here is wishing for us to remove it. I have been looking into the magical construction of it for a few minutes but this will take some time to do correctly. There are several layers of magic to wade through before we can even think about getting to the ink itself. The spell work is good, the ink work is shoddy."

Wekesa nodded, looking at the Mark and tapping it lightly with his finger. "A clever trick making it move but too much focus seems to have gone into that aspect and not enough devoted to the image itself. It looks as if a child has drawn it."

Markus nodded absently. "Go in the back as see if my father is here. He may be able to help us with this."

Wekesa nodded and stood. "I should think so. The Old Man has more experience than the two of us put together." he disappeared into the back of the shop, going through the door that Markus had come through.

A moment later he came out with an old man, bent almost double with age, supporting himself with the aid of a wooden cane. If Harry thought the other two men were heavily tattooed, they had nothing on this man. He was bald and clean shaven, and from the top of his head all the way down, or at least as far as Harry could see, he bore countless markings of dark ink. Harry looked at the wall of portraits and saw a man who resembled the Old Man and found that he had apparently always been so marked.

The Old Man stopped short of them and smiled a toothless smile. "Mister Potter, welcome to my shop."

Harry raised his eyebrow at the Old Man. "How did you know?" he asked, mildly impressed and annoyed in equal measure.

The Old Man smirked. "I have seen you many times walking up and down this street. Always looking but never entering. The Prophet says that you are missing. I am glad to see that this is not the case. I knew that one day you would find your way into my chair. Though it looks as though it is not for the reasons I had hoped."

Harry smirked. "Sorry to disappoint."

The Old Man shook his head as he settled into the chair his son had just vacated, taking the specs and donning them. He looked over the Mark carefully. "It is I who is sorry, Mister Potter. I fear that there may be no way to remove this Mark, short of removing your arm."

Harry grimaced but had a determined look in his eye. "If I must, I will."

The Old Man smiled in amusement. "I have no doubts. However, let's see if we can't avoid that outcome, if only to avoid the mess." He looked up. "Wekesa, my friend, please lock the door and draw the curtains. This will take some time, I'm afraid and we don't want any interruptions."

Wekesa nodded and did as asked. "You have an appointment at three," he African man reminded him. "Mr. Black."

The Old Man nodded his head absently, running a finger curiously over the Dark Mark. "Yes, yes. You'll just have to have Markus take over for me."

"He won't be happy about that," Markus said. "He booked with you."

The Old Man did not look to concerned. "Sirius will just have to deal with it. He can accept or reschedule. Mister Potter's Mark is something I have long been wanting to get a look at. Well, not yours particularly. The Dark Mark in general. It just happened to belong to a familiar face." He smiled up at Harry.

Harry nodded in return. "So, my godfather comes in here?"

The Old Man hummed in affirmation. "Yes. Quite often. His work is quite extensive. Not that you can really see it, but aesthetic is not its purpose; not completely anyway. There is a lot of connecting artwork but it is the rest that matters. Much in the same manner as this Mark, his are enchanted. Runes and such for strength and speed, and stamina. To help him focus and such. Comes in handy in his line of work. Keeps it all hidden, he does, beneath his clothes. An advantage."

Harry frowned, thinking this over. He would have to be wary of Sirius in the future if they ever met in combat.

"I could give you something similar if you wish."

Harry cocked his head to the side. "I'll consider it."

"That's all I'm suggesting, Mister Potter," the Old Man told him.

Harry sat there for a couple of hours, Markus and Wekesa moving around the parlour, coming over to look at something or pitch advise every so often if the Old Man wanted a second or even third opinion on something.

Wekesa rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "We could perhaps try siphoning the ink out, could we not?"

Markus nodded, seeing the trail of logic. "A hollowed needle inserted into the skin and a suction to pull out the ink."

Harry raised a brow. "Is that even possible?" he asked. He didn't know anything about tattoos.

The Old Man nodded. "It could work."

Markus was looking over their needles now. "When inserted into the skin, the ink does not dry. It remains wet, pressed and held into place between the layers of skin. This is why when one gets older the ink can 'smear' or run together as the skin loses its elasticity. Our tattoos don't do this because we enchant them to hold their shape." He gestured to his father's tattoos as reference.

"The only concern I have," the Old Man said, "is that the ink may be warded against such actions. This magic is not the same as like we use to make our tattoos permanent. Without knowing what the exact purpose of the magic is we cannot break it. Maybe if we had a Curse-Breaker here we could possibly take care of this issue quite easily, but as we don't..." he trailed off, not really needing to finish the sentence.

Harry thought on that. He knew a Curse-Breaker, sort of. He had met Bill only briefly and he was good enough at his job that Gringotts had hired him. But Bill was a member of the Order and by now would know, or at least suspect that Harry had had something to do with what happened at Hogwarts.

This train of thought led him to remembering Jimmy again, and the guilt washed over him like a tidal wave. He couldn't risk reaching out to the Order. They were as likely to turn him over to the Aurors as help him; probably more likely if he actually considered the fact that the only members he actually knew well were Hermione, Remus and his parents. Given that he was responsible for the death of their youngest child and had personally killed their beloved leader he knew that they would not be particularly welcoming to him. No, Bill was out of the question.

He supposed he could kidnap him and force him to help him, but that would do more harm than good when it came to relations with the Order. It wasn't that he actually liked them or wanted their help, except Hermione, but it was a classic case of 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend'; even if 'the enemy of my enemy is my enemy' was more accurate in his case.

Harry then considered trying it himself. Bill had expressed interest in having him join him at Gringotts as a member of his Curse-Breaker team so maybe he could break this on his own. "Let me see those," he said, pointing at the specs.

The Old Man hesitated a moment then handed them over. Harry donned them and frowned at how strange it felt to be wearing glasses. He definitely didn't think he would ever want to have to wear the damned things on a regular basis.

He looked down at the Mark and found what the Old Man was referring to. He didn't see the Mark itself with this setting, all he saw was runes in the general shape of the Mark. He studied the sequence curiously. It was rather unconventional and looked to be heavily layered. He reached over and drew his wand and pressed it to the Mark, focusing on the Runes. He willed one of them, a Algir rune, to change to merkstave form, or reversed setting, but it resisted. He pressed a little harder with his magic.

The reaction was instantaneous. His arm was suddenly engulfed in blinding pain, like it was on fire as a new Rune flared up into existence, invisible before now. He gasped and his body contorted. He clutched at his arm and bit back a scream. Suddenly, he felt a probing at his mind and a whispering voice, cold and malicious. He slammed his Occlumency shields into place, changing them from passive to active. The probe pushed back, violently, but he somehow managed to resist.

After several moments of this, the tendrils retreated and Harry waited, not willing to let his guard down yet. He was distantly aware that his arm was still in great pain and he could feel his body weakening. His energy draining. The tendrils came back again and he felt them renew their assault on his mental shields.

He moved out of his mind just enough to look at the Old Man, who was watching him with deep concern. "Cut this damned thing off!" he bit out through gritted teeth.

Markus, who was standing to the side gaped. "What? Why?"

Harry glowered. "It's killing me, stupid!"

"Are you sure?" The Old Man asked, reaching down and removing the specs and handing them to Wekesa, who set them on the table.

Harry nodded, pushing back against the assault on his mind. He could feel his hand going slack from lack of energy. He noted that the wand he had taken from Dumbledore was still held there, so he struggled and returned it to his holster. A fresh wave of pain flushed over him and he growled.

"It's draining me. I think its a fail-safe. A trap, in case someone tried to betray him and remove the Mark." He sucked in a deep breath. "If I don't cut it off now, it will kill me."

"If you are completely sure," the Old Man pressed.

Harry nodded, smiling wryly as best as he could through the pain and assault on both his mind and body. "It's no good to me anymore. I do not want it...In fact, I've always hated this arm. I will not keep it. It _has_ to go."

"Well, at least you still have a sense of humor," Markus said. "Come, Wekesa, help me move him to the back. We do want the mess out here."

Wekesa nodded and together the two men lifted Harry by his feet and shoulders and carried him to the back of the shop, the Old Man walking behind them. There was a table in the back room with some chairs around it. Markus cleared the table with a waved of his hand and they laid him down on it.

Markus took off his belt and strapped it tight around Harry's upper arm as a makeshift tourniquet.

"We should put him under," Wekesa said, his deep voice filling the room.

Harry shook his head. "No! I can't let myself be unconscious. I can't let him in." He tapped the side of his head to let them know what he meant.

Markus grimaced. "Let's get this damned thing off of him before it kills him."

Harry had lost much of his color, his skin pale and hot to the touch. He was dying and they could all see it.

"Hold him down," the Old Man ordered and the two younger men did as he said, Markus holding his shoulders and other arm down while Wekesa held his legs. The Old Man drew his wand and pressed it to Harry's arm left arm, just above the elbow. "This is going to hurt, a lot," he told Harry. "Are you ready?"

Harry nodded, his eyes closed tight against the pain.

The Old Man pressed his lips firmly together, then uttered, " _Diffendo!_ "

There was a spurt of blood as the charm sliced through the flesh, muscle and bone, severing the arm completely.

Harry could not hold back the scream that escaped him as the pain in his arm temporarily overshadowed the pain in the rest of his body, which was now slowly fading away. Harry felt the probe at his mind vanish and then his world became darkness.

 **XXXX**

Harry awoke to find himself laying on a couch. Where was he? He didn't recognize the room he was in at all. This certainly wasn't his room at Hogwarts, and it wasn't his dungeon either. Panic filled his mind. Had he been taken by someone? He pushed that down, reasoning that if he were being held hostage he wouldn't have been left unguarded on a soft couch.

That in mind, he sighed and decided he needed to get up and go see where he was and who had put him there.

He rolled off the couch and made to stand, losing his balance and falling onto the floor. He cursed and made to move his arms to push himself back up, but only one responded. He frowned and looked to his left arm to try and figure out why it wasn't moving when he tried to get it to.

What he saw made his other arm give out and the collapsed to the floor again. His arm was _gone_! How the hell had that happened? Was he attacked? Tortured?

He shook his head. That wouldn't make sense for the same reasons he had stated before about not being left alone on a comfortable couch if this were the case.

He wracked his memory and employed all of his Occlumency skill to resurface his memories. Slowly, it all came back. The journey to the cave, the confrontation atop the Astronomy Tower, the death of Dumbledore, the murder of Jimmy, the avenging of Jimmy, his fleeing the castle, taking refuge in Godric's Hollow, coming to Knockturn Alley, the Mark trying to kill him and the subsequent removal of his arm.

He stared the stump of his arm with awe. It didn't hurt. He had expected it to hurt. Was it supposed to hurt? Why didn't it hurt?

He pushed himself back up on his one arm and got his knees under him. He braced his one remaining arm on the couch and heaved himself to his feet, swaying precariously, then adjusting his feet to retain balance.

He breathed deeply, calming his racing heart. This sort of weakness and disorientation was not something he was used to in the slightest, and he was concerned about getting used to it. He didn't want to, but he had to consider that this would put him at even more of a disadvantage in his coming battles. Not only was he outnumbered on all sides, he only had one arm now.

He shuffled slowly way from the couch, seeing a glass of water on a nearby table. He hadn't realized until then just how dry and scratchy his mouth and throat were. It felt like he had been force-fed an entire wad of cotton.

He was about half way there when he got up the confidence to try walking at a normal pace. He made it three steps before his equilibrium shifted and his feet went out from under him again. He reached out with his right arm, trying desperately to catch himself on the table. He missed, his fingers catching the lip of the table before slipping off, sending him crashing to the floor once more.

He groaned.

There was a click and the door, which Harry had not really noticed before, opened to admit Markus, who took one look at him and cursed. He closed the door and knelt down and lifted Harry up off the ground and into a chair by the table.

Harry's face burned with shame and self-directed anger. He was like a bloody child. Weak and frail; unable to do even the simplest of task for himself. He hated this. But it had had to be done. It was the only way, that he was certain of. He would just have to deal with this problem as he had all others: with patience and perseverance.

"Easy there," Markus told him. "It's gonna take a while to get used to that."

Harry nodded tightly. "What happened?" he asked. "I didn't think we took off that much." He nodded at the fact that his arm, all the way up to the shoulder, was gone.

"Ah," Markus frowned. "We had to call in a healer. Don't worry, it was a friend of the family, she's sworn to silence. Plus there's that whole healer/patient confidentiality thing too. No one knows you''re here. Not even your godfather out there. Anyway. The healer, she had to removed the rest because your thrashing about caused the first cut to be jagged and uneven. It wouldn't have healed properly, so she fixed it and stopped the bleeding. Gave you a few potions to speed up your healing."

"How long was I out?" Harry wondered.

"Uh, well, it was early when you got here. I think it was around nine, then we took some time looking at that Mark. It's eight now." Markus shrugged. "I'd say close to eight hours or so. Give or take a bit."

Harry nodded. "So, Sirius is here?"

Markus nodded. "He's getting some more work done from my father. Like I said, he doesn't know you are here."

This was of some comfort to Harry, but he knew that he would have to reach out to the Order at some point, if only to arrange some sort of truce between them until after Voldemort had been dealt with. Sirius presented an opportunity.

"I'll need you to do something for me," Harry told the older man.

"What is it?"

"Do you have parchment and ink?" Harry asked.

Markus nodded with a smirk. "We're a tattoo parlour, of course we have ink."

Harry snorted with a small smirk of his own. "Well, I need to write something, on parchment not skin. Unless you have some skin I can use to write a letter on. Might freak someone out."

Markus chuckled. "No such luck, but I do have some parchment." He walked to the other side of the room to a cabinet and came back with an inkwell, quill and roll of parchment. "Here you go."

"Thanks," Harry said. He unrolled the parchment and set the inkwell on the corner to keep it still and straight. Markus reached over and held the bottom of the roll for him.

 _ **To the Order of the Phoenix,**_

 _ **Hello, dearest enemies. As you may already know, I am the one who killed Albus Dumbledore atop the Astronomy Tower at Hogwarts. Really, it wasn't something I took pleasure in; pride yes, joy, no. Regret is not something I feel for his death, but I would have you know that I did not kill the boy. Young ones are not my style and they have nothing to fear from me.**_

 _ **I also killed the Longbottoms at St. Mungos and it was I who tortured them in the first place. I also killed Sturgis Podmore six years ago. I was but a child at the time but he was not the first person I had killed by that point. I tell you this as proof that I am who I say I am.**_

 _ **I wish to meet with you all, soon. If you are willing, leave a message for me with the barmaid at the White Wyvern, If there is no response within a week's time, I will assume that you have no desire to parley with me and the next time we meet will be in battle.**_

 _ **The God of Death**_

He rolled the parchment up and used his wand to create a black wax seal bearing the image of a raven with its wings spread over an image of a sun cross. He handed the letter to Markus, who had read it as he wrote it and was now looking at him with wide eyes.

"Are you really the God of Death?" he asked.

Harry nodded solemnly. "That's what the papers say." He ran his remaining hand over his mouth. "Though I suspect that soon enough my own name will be spoken in much the same way. Unless those Death Eaters they caught can find some way of keeping the information from the Aurors. Which I doubt either of them will be able to do." He pushed himself to his feet. "I need to go. Thank your father and your friend for their help. And thank you as well. I hope I don't have to ask you all to keep this quiet, especially what you see here." He tapped the letter that Markus held between his fingers.

Markus nodded. "We won't be telling anyone."

"Good," Harry said. "Give that to Sirius after I'm gone. Tell him it was delivered by a black raven and that the raven spoke his name. He might not believe that but ravens can mimic human speech. Just tell him that it said his name and flew away."

Markus nodded again, repeating it back to Harry.

"That's about it." He turned to the room. "Dobby."

A small _pop_ announced the arrival of the little House Elf. "Mister Harry Potter Sir is calling Dobby?" he asked. Then he saw Harry's arm and his already wide eyes grew even wider and Harry feared they may just fall out of his skull. "What is happening to Mister Harry Potter Sir's arm!?"

Harry sighed. "It's a long story, Dobby. I'll tell you all about it when we get back home." He looked at Markus with a raised eyebrow.

"Won't be mentioning that you have a House Elf either," he said, catching on.

Harry smiled. "Good man. Dobby, let's go home."

Dobby nodded and grabbed Harry's hand and with another small _pop_ they were gone.

 **XXXX**

 **A/N: Another chapter down. Took me a bit longer to write this one but I think it turned out all right. Don't worry, Markus, Wekesa and the Old Man aren't going to be regular characters in this story. Maybe recurring, popping up from time to time, but nowhere near as often as OCs in some stories do. I don't like using OCs because they tend to be a Deus Ex Machina in most stories and are often Mary/Gary Sues. I intend to avoid that trap. I can't expand the world without OCs but I won't let them steal focus from the main characters. I refuse to.**

 **Harry's arm will eventually be returned to him but for now it is gone. I had thought about using a magical prosthetic like what Voldemort did for Wormtail, but I'm not sure yet. I may just do it but I feel like that would put Harry too much into Winter Soldier territory. Not that that's a bad thing and the Winter Soldier is one of my favorite comic book characters and is in some ways similar to this Harry. Lost to the enemy, comes back as an evil assassin, eventually becomes good again (though this Harry will never be considered a good guy by any stretch, He's dark, but not psychopathic and evil) and both have lost their arm and if I make him have the silver arm it would be perfect parallel. Also, their appearance is similar. Longer hair (think Daniel Radcliffe in Victor Frankenstein) and both wear a mask that covers half of their face (in this case it is Harry's half balaclava).**

 **Now, you all know how much I love it when you all leave me those lovely reviews. Your feedback is invaluable to me and fuels my muse. So if you would be so kind as to leave a few words, it would be greatly appreciated.**

 **Atrocity**


	24. The Enemy of my Enemy

**XXIV. The Enemy of My Enemy...**

Harry went to the Wyvern every day following the events in Markus Scarrs' parlour. And each day he had been disappointed to find that there was no letter waiting for him there. His one week deadline was drawing ever nearer.

In that time, Harry had adjusted to his missing arm. He could walk and run normally now, and he was getting used to dressing, undressing, eating and reading one-handed. He could have used a wand, but he was a firm believer in not relying on it too much lest one lose it, which was why he had dove into wandless casting when in training with Barty; this way he was never unarmed. He looked down at his missing limb with an ironic smile at this thought.

Despite the lack of response to his letter, Harry was in high spirits, or as high in spirits as one who relived the murder of their younger brother every night could be.

It never failed that when he closed his eyes to sleep, he replayed those few seconds over and over again and no matter how hard he tried he could not change it, even in his own mind. He could not erase the stain of his guilt from his soul.

Not that he wanted to. It was his rage at the boy's death that kept him focused on his goal. That, and the thought of what would happen to Hermione if Voldemort ever found out what she meant to him. Harry was public enemy number one for both camps at present. He knew of this from two primary sources; the Prophet had reported the Aurors' discovery of his involvement in the death of Albus Dumbledore and a nation-wide manhunt was underway for him. On the other side of things, he had seen more than one Death Eater scouring Knockturn Alley for any sign or rumor of his whereabouts. There were posters with his face on them all over both Knockturn and Diagon Alley calling for his capture.

When he went out to the Alley, sticking to the darker side of the community, he kept his balaclava up and his head down. His missing arm came in great handy here. No one was looking for the one armed man. He had overheard from a couple of urchins – whom he had paid a galleon each – that the Death Eaters believed him dead. They were looking for a corpse, and while his pale complexion might suggest otherwise, he was not quite dead yet.

This didn't come as a surprise to Harry. Voldemort would never think that someone would maim themselves in such a manner to avoid death. He was of the mind that physical pain made one weak, but Harry knew better. And more than that, he knew how the Dark Lord thought. The empty sleeve blowing limp in the breeze was all they needed to see to note him and then disregard him completely. That, and his hair was longer than it had ever been before and he left it loose and slightly unkempt; the opposite of the Harry everyone knew who was cleanly shaven, hair neatly trimmed and combed and immaculately dressed; it was amazing what one missed when they were looking for something else.

This day – the last day of his allotted week for the Order's response – the Alley was quiet and a cool breeze blew through. A copy of the Prophet with Harry's face plastered across the front blew by, tumbling end over end down a side street. Harry watched it go with a blank expression. His eyes crinkled slightly as he for some reason found an amusement in this sight. He had had precious little to smile at of late and any reason to allow himself a bit of a joy was fine by him. He glanced up at the sky, which was a blanket of steel grey clouds that moved very slowly with the breeze. It would likely rain before the afternoon was done. This was not unusual. As a nation, Britain was an island, surrounded on all sides by the sea. Rain and storms were a common occurrence here; so much so that it had become something of a stereotype to the rest of the world. All in all, it was a comfortable day.

Harry walked past Markus Scarrs' and waved to the three men inside as he passed. They waved back – or at least Wekesa and Markus did; the Old Man was in the middle of working on someone. Harry paused looking inside. He recognized the man in the chair. The grey-black hair; the goatee and mustache combo; the twin scars on either side of the mouth. It was Auror Williamson, the Scotsman.

How many of the Task Force came down here for enchanted ink? Were they all powered up with these magic Runes? The thought didn't bode well for Harry's chances of taking them down in a fight. Not with him being handicapped as he was.

He moved on before the man noticed him and decided to come after him.

He slipped into the Wyvern and took in the pub interior. There were a few regulars and a pair sitting in the back of the room in what was his normal seat. He didn't recognized the shapes in their hooded cloaks. Could be outsiders, stopping in for a drink; new to the area and not knowing that that particular booth was reserved for him and his guests only.

He scowled darkly but moved to the bar and rested his elbow on it, waiting for the barmaid to come over to him. He could feel eyes on him. It was unusual for the regulars to stare at him as they all knew him and were used to his presence. It was the two at his table, he knew it was. Were they simply curious? Were they there for him? They could be Death Eaters, sent to kill him. Barty knew that he came here often and may have passed on this information to the Dark Lord, who had sent an ambush for him. Or it could be someone else.

The barmaid came over and Harry just stared at her. She knew what he wanted; he had been here every day since he had sent his letter, at the same time each day. Consistency was a virtue at times.

"No letter," she told him in her Irish brogue.

He closed his eyes briefly, unable to hide the disappointment.

"But those two in the corner," she point at his booth, but Harry did not take his eyes off of her. "They insisted on waiting for you."

Harry raised a brow. "Who are they?"

She shrugged and shook her head. "I don't know. Didn't recognize their faces. The girl though, she was quite adamant about not leaving until you got here."

Harry frowned. Girl? "Give me a mead, please."

The barmaid nodded and pulled a horn mug out from under the bar and poured the honeyed beverage into it with great care.

Harry took the mug in his one good hand and turned around and marched over to his booth. The whole way over, he kept eye-contact with one of the figures. He couldn't see their faces but he knew they were watching him.

They were seated on the same side of the booth, leaving the other side empty for him. He set his mug down on the table and slid into the seat, his one hand resting on the table in front of him and the other sleeve hanging lankly at his side. One of the figures, the shorter one, was looking rather obviously at his missing limb.

"Who are you?" he asked them, not removing his own mask.

One of the figures shifted and then reached up and removed their hood, revealing the face of Charlie Weasley. "Hello, Harry."

Harry smirked and reached up and pulled his own mask down. "Put it all together did you? Not to hard to do with what I said in the letter and the Prophet leaking the truth. Though I admit, I would have expected you to figure it out sooner, Hermione." He looked at the other figure.

Hermione lowered her own hood and smiled weakly at him. "I did put it together sooner, Harry," she said. "I knew you killed Dumbledore the night it happened. I mean, you did tell me in your letter. Image my surprise to wake up alone with a letter telling that you were a killer. Then the letter from the God of Death came and the first paragraph, the first letter of each sentence spells out your name. It could have been a coincidence but..."

"The Universe is rarely so lazy," Harry smirked.

"Yeah," she said, looking down at the table. "You're handwriting gave you away too..after so long spending time with you, I recognized it almost immediately..." Tears were forming in the corner of her eyes and she stubbornly fought to keep them from falling. "Was it all a lie, Harry? What we have...had. Was any of it even real? Did it even matter to you? Did I?"

Harry's smirk fell away. "It meant everything to me, Hermione. If you never believe another thing I say for the rest of my life, please believe that." He sighed and rubbed his stump, a habit that had started to form when he was stressed. "I wanted to tell you, but I couldn't. I couldn't bear to. That's why I left a letter for you. I couldn't stand to face you when the truth came out. I was a coward."

Hermione still looked upset and sad, but her eyes softened. "You aren't a coward, Harry. You told me the truth in the end, even if it wasn't to my face. You could have just left without saying anything at all, but you left a note. That's more than most would do." She sighed. "Why did you kill him, Harry? Dumbledore, I mean."

Harry ran his hand through his hair. Charlie leaned forward, interested to hear Harry's answer too. He had stayed quiet while Hermione and he talked but now he was looking like was going to take an active role in the conversation.

"The truth is worse than any excuse I could give. I could say that I did it because I am evil and that's what I do. I could say that I was still loyal to Voldemort. The truth though is that I wanted to. I didn't hate him, I quite admired him. I _respected_ him. When the Death Eaters came up to the Tower I knew that there was no way he could make it out. Neither of us could, unless I killed him. They thought I had turned to the light; not quite accurate, but they were correct to assume that I was no longer on their side. Draco had been chosen to kill Dumbledore in my place, and kill me as well. But I killed Dumbledore to maintain my cover. I was going to go back to Voldemort and fight him from within, but things didn't go that way. Pride kept me from letting someone else take his life. It was my kill and I was not going to let someone else take it from me. And Albus deserved better than to be killed by a lowly Death Eater. But the God of Death, that was a worthy killer."

"So, in your eyes, you did him a kindness?" Charlie asked.

Harry shook his head and took a swig of his mead. "No. What I did to the Longbottoms was a kindness." He ignored their frowns at this. "For Albus, it was merely a show of respect. He had already accepted that he would die long before that night. He revealed to me that he knew who I was and what I was for quite a while. He went to the next life with confidence that I could finish what he had started."

"And what was that?" Hermione asked.

"The destruction of Voldemort," Harry answered. "We were close. I had hoped that we could get a bit further along before I had to kill Albus but alas it was not to be."

"What makes you think you can succeed where so many others, Dumbledore included, have failed?" Charlie asked.

Harry smiled. "I can make him mortal."

Hermione's eyes widened. "The Horcruxes!" she exclaimed.

Harry shot a sharp look at her and at the pub in general. Charlie waved a hand. "We've already set up privacy wards," he assured him. "Now, what is a Horcrux?"

Hermione launched into a brief explanation of them. "A Horcrux is an object in which one places a piece of their soul. It anchors their spirit to this plane and makes one effectively immortal."

Harry nodded, backing up her words. "Voldemort created six, we believe."

"You found them all?" Hermione asked, her eyes shining with hope. The hurt and disappointment was still there, but this little pin of light was shining through all the same.

Harry nodded. "All but one. That's where me and Albus were that night. We were following a lead on a possible location but it was a bust. When we got back, the Death Eaters showed up. The rest I'm sure you all know. James and Sirius are in the Order after all and their team are the ones handling this."

Hermione nodded. She bit her lip, something she did when she was either focused or uncertain. Harry found the expression quite cute, but he could see she was struggling with something. Something important. "Harry...?"

"Yes, Hermione?"

She closed her eyes and a tear fell down her cheek. Harry resisted the urge to reach over and wipe it away. "Why...why did you kill Jimmy?" Her voice cracked as she said Jimmy's name.

Harry's expression went cold, a weight like lead settling where his heart was supposed to be. "I did _not_ kill him, Hermione. You would believe me capable of such a thing?" He hated that his voice sounded so hurt.

Hermione shook her head and Charlie rubbed her back comfortingly. "I don't want to believe it, Harry. But your father and Sirius told us that you did. That you killed him after he saw you kill Dumbledore. Harry, _please_ tell me it isn't true!" She full on crying now.

Harry looked her straight in the eyes. "It isn't true, Hermione. If you want the truth, I will tell you." At her nod he continued. "I killed Albus, I will never deny that. I killed the Longbottoms. I killed Mundungus Fletcher. I killed Podmore. I killed the Prewett brothers. I killed Dedalus Diggle. I killed Emmaline Vance. I killed Edgar Bones. I killed Hestia Jones. I killed Dorcas Meadowes. I killed Elphias Doge. I killed Marcus Selwyn. I killed Joseph Gibbon. I killed Bellatrix LeStrange. I killed Walburga Black. I tried to kill Draco Malfoy."

Hermione and Charlies eyes had gotten wider as the list got longer. He saw Charlie react briefly to the mention of the Prewetts – his uncles – but ignored it. He knew that they knew many of those he had mentioned personally; Charlie more so than Hermione.

"I've killed a lot of people," he said. "But I never once killed a child. And I would never have killed Jimmy. I loved him. He was my brother." His voice trembled a bit at the end and he took a swig of his mead to cover it up, but Hermione – sweet, perceptive Hermione – she saw it and her own lip trembled at seeing the crack in his cold exterior. Harry knew that she was far from happy with him and they may never get back what they had shared that night – a thought that made his heart ache – but at least he could see that she did believe him on this matter.

"Who did kill him, then?" Charlie asked. His voice was even, revealing no emotion. Harry recognized what it was he was doing as he had done it himself many times: he was controlling an emotional response. Most likely to the knowledge that Harry had killed his mother's brothers.

"Bellatrix LeStrange. I killed her for it. She suffered. Died choking on her own blood." Harry's voice was harsh and Hermione flinched at the wolfish grin he sported at the memory of stomping Bellatrix's rib cage in.

"If you are already able to kill them on your own, why do you need us?" Charlie asked.

Harry smiled wryly. "You may have noticed that I have lost a few pieces since we last met. He shrugged his left shoulder as emphasis. "I am not as strong as I was then. I can still kill, do not doubt that. I could take any of them one-on-one, but if I meet them in a group, I would only be able to last so long. And I've got the Ministry on my back as well, now. I can't fight a war on two fronts. So, I decided to extent an offer of a cease-fire between myself and your Order. Together we can take down Voldemort. Then, at the end, if it must be done, I will surrender myself over to the Aurors. If that's what it will take."

Hermione looked troubled, but she quickly hid it.

Charlie nodded, considering his words. "I will take this offer back to the rest of the Order. See what they all say. How can we reach you?"

"Hermione knows how to get word to me," Harry said, looking pointedly at the brown-eyed young woman.

Hermione looked uncertain, but nodded anyway.

Charlie smiled tight-lipped and stood up. "We will contact you soon. Come on, Hermione." He began to walk away but stopped when he realized that Hermione had not moved from her place at the table. "What are you doing?"

Hermione swallowed. "I'd like to have a private word with Harry."

Charlie furrowed his brow. "Hermione, I don't think this is a good idea."

"He won't hurt me, Charlie," Hermione asserted, her voice telling both men that she actually did believe this.

Charlie didn't look convinced. "I will wait at the bar. Do not take too long." He marched over to the bar and sat where he could watch them across the room.

"I would never hurt you, Hermione," Harry told her seriously.

"I know," she smiled softly. "What did you mean when you said that I knew how to reach you?"

"Dobby," Harry said simply. "You didn't know about him, but I'm telling you now. I have a House Elf and his name is Dobby. You can call him and he will go to you. I would suggest that you use Kreacher but he only answers to me."

"Kreacher? As in Sirius' House Elf?" Hermione queried.

Harry snorted. "He isn't Sirius'. He's mine. I inherited him when I became the Head of House Black. Walburga made me her heir before I killed her. Grimmauld Place is mine as well. I rescued all of the treasures that Sirius was trying to sell. Their all safely locked away in Gringotts."

Hermione nodded her head, taking all of this in. Her eyes fell on his missing arm again. He expected to see pity, but there was nothing more than concern and no small amount of curiosity there. "How did that happen?" she asked. "Did you lose it that night at Hogwarts?"

Harry shook his head. "No. It was the day I sent Sirius the letter. I was trying to remove my Dark Mark. Voldemort can use it to inflict pain over great distances and I could not allow him to have that sort of advantage over me. I tried to break the Runic pattern of the spell but there was a fail-safe that was designed to kill you slowly and allow Voldemort to directly access your mind so he could find you and punish you for the betrayal. I was able to hold off the mental attack, but the Mark was killing me. I had a...well, I would say friend, but we both know I don't have any of those anymore. Anyway, they cut it off at my request. It was necessary."

"You have friends, Harry," Hermione spoke quietly.

"Do I?" he countered. "You and I, we _were_ friends. Then, for a short time, we were more. I am not naïve, Hermione. I have no illusions that we can just go back to where we were, no matter how much I might wish that we could."

Hermione took a deep breath and then exhaled heavily. "I...don't know, Harry. I...I need some time. This is a lot to take in. I've been asking myself since that night what you mean to me. I know what I said, what we both said, and it was true then but I don't know if it still is."

Harry looked down. "My feelings for you have not changed, Hermione."

Hermione smiled tremulously. "I know." She reached over and grasped his one hand in both of hers. "And a large part of me want to just say to Hel with it and take you back. But, the logical part of me won't let that part do it. I'm trying to reconcile the man I knew with the one in front of me now. You face and eyes and name are the same, but everything else is different. You looked like the Harry I love, but are you? I just need time to figure this all out." She smiled, tears falling once more. She reached up and wiped them away on her sleeve.

She stood up from the booth and Harry followed suit, draining the last of his mead. Hermione drew her wand and pointed it at him. He raised a brow. "Going to try and take me in, Hermione?" His voice was light and teasing, but his eyes told another story.

Hermione shook her head. "No. I'm going to do you a favor. I know you cared about Jimmy and I'm glad that he was avenged." She waved her wand over his left side and a silver arm grew where his old limb had been. Harry lifted his hand to his face and looked at it, bending his fingers experimentally.

"How did you do this?" he asked.

Hermione shrugged, putting her wand away. "It's advanced Transfiguration. Actually banned. I read about it in one of your books while we were at school."

Harry nodded. A thought occurred to him. "Was there a funeral?"

Hermione nodded, knowing who he was asking about. "Yeah. He's buried in Godric's Hollow. A lot of the Potter Family are interred there."

Harry kept the shock off of his face. They had been so close by and he had not realized. But they had not known he was there either, so that was of some comfort. "I'll go and see him. Please don't tell anyone that I'm going there. Please."

Hermione agreed. "I won't. You deserve the chance to say goodbye."

Harry could feel his exterior cracking as he thought about Jimmy. "I didn't get to say it before..." He looked away and saw Charlie rise from his bar stool. "You should probably go."

Hermione nodded. "Yeah..."

Harry made to hug her, but let his arms fall back to his sides. He reached up and pulled his balaclava back over his nose and turned to leave, giving her a silent goodbye with his eyes. He could feel her eyes in him the whole way to the door. He resisted the urge to look back. There was no use looking back, he wasn't going that way. Forward. Always forward.

He stepped out into the cool breeze and took a deep breath, feeling his lungs fill with the cold air. It invigorated him and he felt a bit of relief. He flexed the fingers of his new arm again. It was an odd feeling, he could sense the movement like there were actually nerves in it, but his fingertips were numb. This made sense. It wasn't flesh, it was metal. Enchanted metal, but metal all the same. Metal didn't feel. It was cold, hard and unyielding. Just like he was; most days anyway.

He noticed two men watching him from across the street and narrowed his eyes at them. They shifted uneasily but maintained their gaze. This couldn't be good.

He moved down the Alley and kept his eyes forward, but his ears trained to the men who were now walking behind him. They were joined a moment later by two more. He sighed and mentally prepared himself for what was about to happen.

He stopped and the men stopped too. He tilted his head, looking at a side street that was dark and seemingly empty. A few empty storage crates sat against the wall but that was it. It would have to do. The side street was more akin to an actual alley and came to a dead end, which was where the crates were sitting.

The men followed him inside, hesitating when they too realized that it was a dead end. Harry had to smirk at this. Finally, urged on by their numbers, they followed him in. "So, the Dark Lord still unwilling to do his own dirty work?" Harry asked, making them jump at the suddenness of his voice.

He turned to face them. Up close he could see their features more clearly and they were familiar to him. Shunpike, the poor fool; Nott Sr.; MacNair; Avery.

"You're alive then," Nott noted. "The Dark Lord will be most pleased when we bring you in. He was most disappointed when he thought that you had died." He looked at the metal hand peeking out from Harry's sleeve. "Found a way to get rid of that Mark did you? Looks like it cost you an arm and a leg..well, an arm anyway." He laughed, the others joining in.

Harry scoffed but ignored the joke for the most part. "You know I'm going to have to kill you all now, right? I can't let you run off back to Voldemort and tell him that I'm alive. It would take the fun out of it." He tightened his new hand into a fist. Time to see what this thing could do.

The four men drew their wands and Nott, MacNair and Avery grinned in a predatory manner. Shunpike did not look so confident. "Guys, m'be we should go an' call fer backup. M'not so sure 'bout this."

Avery glared at the younger man. "Grow a pair, lad. We've got him outnumbered. He doesn't even have a wand!"

MacNair was starting to falter a bit too. "Not like he ever needed one," he muttered.

"Enough," Nott snapped. "Get him!"

Harry lunged forward, his left fist smashing Nott square in the face. Since he couldn't feel it anyway, Harry saw no point in holding back at all. The older man collapsed to the ground, his jaw broken and dislocated, several teeth now lay scattered along with a fair amount of blood.

He wasted no time in continuing his assault. He shoved Shunpike with his left arm, sending him crashing into the wall, where he fell in a heap; at the same time pointed his other hand at MacNair and fired a silent Killing Curse at him. He collapsed dead at Harry's feet.

Avery seemed to forget that he had a wand and took a swing at Harry with his fist. Harry brought his arms up to protect his head, then grabbed the man and flipped him over his shoulder. He crashed through one of the storage crates. Harry grabbed the man by his hair and pulled him up again, using his fingers to pry open his mouth, he began pulling his upper and lower jaws away from each other until with a sickening _crack_ the bottom one dislocated and was ripped away by Harry's new metal arm. Avery lost consciousness from the pain and would soon die from blood loss, if not from the shear trauma of the attack.

Nott was trying to crawl away down the alley and Harry could hear shouting out in the Alley. He stomped on Nott's leg, breaking it. He tried to scream but his broken jaw made the sound more of a gurgled moan; another tooth fell out of his mouth, along with a steady stream of blood and saliva. Harry reached down and picked up the man's fallen wand and snapped it. He then touched his middle and index finger to the man's temple and cast a silent _Bombarda_. Avery's skull shattered under the blow and he fell dead, skull fragment, grey matter and blood now decorating the cobblestones and part of one of the walls.

A whimper reminded Harry that Shunpike was still behind him against the wall. He turned and grabbed him around the neck with his metal hand lifted him up off the ground. Harry was finding that this metal arm made things way easier in the combat area. Too easy, if he was honest. Oh well, it was only temporary anyway. He would get rid of it when he found a way to replace it with a real flesh and blood arm...if that was even possible.

Stan was blubbering and pleading for his life, begging for mercy, but Harry was not feeling merciful. In fact, his shallow well of mercy had long ago run dry.

He tightened his grip.

"Harry!"

Harry turned his head to the end of the alley to find Hermione and Charlie standing there, looking at him with wide eyes. Harry tightened his grip on Stan's neck even further. "What are you still doing here?" Harry demanded.

Hermione ignored him and countered with a demand of her own. "What are you doing!?"

Harry looked at Stan, who was starting to turn blue. "These men were Death Eaters, Hermione. They would have tried to take me to Voldemort, or at least tell him that I was alive if I let one of them go. I can't allow that."

"Then just alter their memories," Hermione said.

Harry shook his head at her naivety. "That would be too obvious, Hermione. Think about it. If one of them returns with an altered memory and no knowledge of how his comrades were killed it will send alarm bells ringing. Voldemort more will become suspicious as to what had happened and possibly use Legilimency to drag the real memories out of him. Then he'll kill him. This man will die regardless." Harry felt one of Stan's legs kick weakly at him but ignored it.

Hermione shook her head but said nothing.

Harry took this as her agreement and tightened his grip until Stan stopped twitching. He let the dead man fall to the alley floor, his eyes bulging and tongue protruding grotesquely.

He stalked back out into the Alley with Hermione and Charlie. He stopped next to her. "You may take your gift back, if you wish," he said, holding up his metal hand to her.

Hermione stared at it for a moment then shook her head, putting on a brave face. "I may not like it, but this is war. You're right. It was the only way." Harry could tell that she didn't fully believe that, but it was a start. "You will hear from us soon."

Harry nodded and began to walk away but stopped short when he heard Hermione call his name again.

He stopped, letting her know that he had heard her.

"Harry...please be safe," she all but whispered, but in the pregnant silence that followed in the aftermath of his grisly display her voice carried to him easily.

Harry nodded and then continued on his way. He reached his usual apparation point and disapparated back to Godric's Hollow.

 **XXXX**

 **A/N: Another chapter down and some Harry/Hermione dialogue! YAY!**

 **So, I know that Harry's metal arm is a bit over-powered (OP) but as I said in the chapter it is only temporary. Harry might seem foolish for giving up a weapon like that, but he sees it as a part of himself that he needs to get back. The arm is cool but one it is seriously OP and two it is too much like what the Winter Soldier has. He's an influence but not the basis for this Harry.**

 **As always, please leave some love for me in the reviews.**

 **Until next time, my friends,**

 **I Am Atrocity**

 **IMPORTANT! PLEASE READ!**

 **Okay, so this is something I have been wracking my brain about for the past week and I need to know if anyone else has noticed this, please.**

 **Okay, so, I was rereading PS when I noticed a GLARING PLOT HOLE in the first chapter. So, Voldemort killed the Potters on Halloween night, but Harry was dropped off at the Dursleys on the following night (November 1st). What happened during those missing 24 hours?**

 **Let me lay out a timeline to make this more understandable:**

 **Halloween night (Oct. 31st): Voldemort attacks the Potters.**

 **Halloween night (Oct 31st): Snape, Hagrid and Sirius visit the Potter house (in that order).**

 **Halloween night (Oct 31st): Hagrid takes Harry away after borrowing Sirius' bike.**

 **November 1st (morning/day): Wizarding world celebrates the 'death' of Voldemort/McGonagall watches Privet Drive as a cat.**

 **November 1st (morning/day): Vernon goes to work and throughout day notices the wizards and hears mention of the Potters' deaths.**

 **November 1st (night): Dumbledore arrives at Privet Drive/Hagrid arrives with baby Harry, who is left on Dursleys' doorstep.**

 **Between the night of the 31st and the night of the 1st, there is an entire day where Harry is unaccounted for. What happened during these 24 Hours? Was it merely an oversight by JKR? Or is there some other explanation?**

 **Now, just thinking about this has sparked my imagination and I plan to write a story about it called "24 Hours: The Lost Day", but I want to hear any theories that you all have or explanations that can clear it up for me.**

 **THANK YOU!**


	25. Roses Beneath the Cypresses

**XXV. Roses Beneath the Cypresses**

Harry could see the cemetery from the ruins of the house, but for some inexplicable reason he couldn't bring himself to go into it. The closest he got was the kissing gate. His feet would carry him no further.

At current, he sat on a bit of foundation that was still intact, looking over to the fenced in graveyard, with its tall cypress trees and countless headstones. He knew that he should be in there, begging the spirit of his fallen brother for the forgiveness he could never give himself but for the life of him he could not do it. It wasn't that he didn't feel like he needed to be forgiven, because he did, it was more than he didn't feel that he deserved to be so near his brother's resting place.

He sighed and ran his flesh hand through his hair.

He had not heard so much as a whisper from the Order since several days prior when he had met Hermione and Charlie at the White Wyvern. He was restless, he need to do something. Sitting here feeling guilty was getting him nowhere. Perhaps he could pay a visit to Knockturn Alley. He dismissed the thought as quickly as it had come. It would not do to run into more Death Eaters so soon. He had gotten lucky the last time. They had decided to confront him rather than run straight to Voldemort and tell him what they had seen. It had given him both the chance and the excuse to kill them. It was their own stupidity and arrogance that had sealed their fates. Had they been smart, they would have called for help, or gone and told the Dark Lord what they had seen and he could have put out more men to search for him. But they were not smart. Most in the ranks were not. He could count the number of truly intelligent Death Eaters on one hand. Barty, one; Severus, two; Lucius, three; Rabastan, four; Rodolphus, five. That was it. The rest were negligible at best. They occupied high stations – some of them – but whether or not they actually deserved those stations was another story altogether.

Killing those four had been necessary. He had done it because it had to be done. But more than that, he had actually enjoyed it. And he had weakened the Dark Lord's forces in doing so; not by much, but every little bit helped. If he killed more, slowly the word would spread and the fence sitters would be less keen to throw in their lot with Voldemort. He could use the very public deaths of the Death Eaters to dissuade new people from joining the Dark Lord's ranks.

What worried him was Hermione's reaction to him killing those men. She had seemed horrified, despite her seeming acceptance of his logic in killing them. Charlie had not seemed fazed in the least by the sight of him choking a man to death, but Hermione, she was evidently not accustomed to such things. He wondered if Charlie's nonchalant response was due to working with dragons or some other, darker reason; he was inclined to believe the former to be the case. Dragons were dangerous creatures and people surely died quite often in the Handler profession. It would make sense.

Harry didn't even consider holding back in killing. He had been doing it for most of his life and he saw no reason to stop now. He would not stop to make Hermione feel better about him or make her feel better about herself. That wasn't the kind of man he was. He was a killer and he always would be. Hermione was not a killer, but she had to learn that in war people died and they died because they were killed. If you didn't want the ones your cared about to be the ones who died, you had to kill those that sought to kill them before they had the chance to kill your loved ones. It was as simple as that. Kill or be killed. And Harry had no illusions, this _was_ war.

He sighed and stood up from his seat. He rubbed his hand on his pants, finding it suddenly sweating. He would do it this time. He was sure of it. He couldn't keep putting it off like a coward, because despite what he seemed to think before, he was not a coward. Not like his father had been. He was not his father, he was Harry, and he would not let himself be a coward, not now or ever.

He walked out of the ruins, stepping beyond the wards and crossing the quaint muggle street to the fenced, gated cemetery. He could feel eyes on him and glanced down the way to see an old lady with a slightly hunched posture watching him from the sidewalk. He frowned. She wasn't looking away, like the muggles did when they realized that they had been seen and their gaze was being returned. He couldn't quite make out her features from this distance, despite his sharpened vision – all thanks to Remus' cursed claws. He paused in the middle of the street and held her gaze for a moment. He was glad that he had covered his metal arm and hand as that was sure to raise a few brows. Then again, given that muggles seemed to go out of their way to not see or acknowledge anything out of the ordinary he was sure they would have thought it was just some sleek new prosthetic or something like that.

Finally after a long moment the woman seemed to grow bored and turned away, tottering off down the lane.

Harry let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Ever since that fight in Knockturn Alley his senses had been on high alert outside of his wards. He expected attacks at every turn now. It wasn't so farfetched in his mind.

He walked to the rest of the way across the street and paused, as he always did, at the kissing gate. He placed his hand on the gate and sighed, steeling himself before going through. He walked slowly, his feet rustling softly against the grass. He passed grave after grave, his keen eyes darting about, reading the names of those near and those around.

He came up short as he noticed a familiar symbol on one of the stones. He walked over and brushed some fallen leaves and general growth off of the stone and frowned curiously. It was the sign of the Deathly Hallows, Grindelwald's symbol. He had seen it more than once in his youth due to Voldemort's obsession with the damned things. Then more in his studying of Grindelwald.

Ignotus Peverell. He remembered James mentioning the name over the Yule holidays at Potter Manor. He had purportedly been the holder of one of the Hallows. Harry thought to the story and the way his father had spoken about him and determined that it must have been the Cloak of Invisibility; not that the story was true.

He shook his head and walked on from his ancestor. He figured that his father believing such nonsense would spur him to bury Jimmy nearby. And he was right. It didn't take him very long after that to find the gravestone and freshly disturbed earth. The grass had not had time to grow back over the grave yet, so Harry waved his hand over it, speeding the process along a bit.

He felt his ire rise though when he finally looked at the stone itself.

 **JAMES FLEAMONT POTTER II**

Jimmy hated his full name, specifically his middle name and his first proper name. Harry, in a moment of pure rage, drew Dumbledore's wand and pointed it at the stone. The words carved there changed and Harry returned his wand to his holster, his anger ebbing away. He banished all of the flowers that had been left there too. They were fake. An insult. This action made him feel much, much better.

 **JIMMY F. POTTER** was what it now read as. It was immeasurably better than what that bastard James had had put there. It was like the man hadn't even known his son at all; or he did and just didn't care that the boy would not have wanted it done that way. And Harry, the lost son, who had only known his brother for a short time, knew the boy infinitely more. He may not have seen much of the boy outside of classes but the time he had spent with him was invaluable and cherished.

He dropped to his knees in front of the stone, feeling the guilt and anguish wash over him in waves. He could feel his eyes start to sting as he gazed at the stone. He knew that there was no logic in weeping for the dead, they were in a far better place than the living, but that didn't stop him from missing the boy. His little brother. He had died far too early. So young and bright. Talented. It was a shame.

With trembling fingers he reached up and touched the name carved there, feeling each letter like a stab to the chest.

The first tear that fell burned him like no wound ever could. He reached up and touched the salty drop curiously. He drew back his hand to find the fingertips wet. This was new. He had never cried before; or at least not that he could remember. He probably had as a child, but he could not say for sure. If he had, he would never have admitted to it. Even when he had held Jimmy body in his arms and sobs wracked his form, there had been no tears...now...he wasn't weeping for Jimmy, not really...he was weeping for himself, because he had to go on living without him.

What had he become? To be so moved by the loss of someone he had not known existed a year ago. He sighed. Human. He had become human. Human...all too human. It was not something he had ever considered himself. He had long ago lost touch with humanity, both within and without; it would seem that he had gotten it back. He could accept that. It made him less like the monster he was seeking to destroy; that monster being Voldemort, whom he doubted even had an ounce of humanity left in him, despite still looking the part. It was a clever deception, pretending to be human.

He shook those thoughts away and conjured a wreath of white roses and placed them gently on top of the grave. The roses were real too. Enchanted to live forever, or as long as Harry himself lived...when he died, so would they.

He sat there on his knees reliving every moment he had ever shared with Jimmy and silently begging the boy forgive him for what he had done to cause his death and swearing that he would kill Voldemort so that his memory would be avenged.

So caught up in his thoughts was he that he did not hear the footsteps behind him until a voice broke the silence.

"'To be sure, I am a forest, and a night of dark trees; but he who is not afraid of my darkness shall find banks full of roses beneath my cypresses.'"

Harry did not rise, nor even look in her direction. "I never took you for the Nietzsche type, Hermione." He sniffled and reached up to wipe the remaining tears away.

He heard her shrug. "There's a lot of things people don't know about me. But should it really surprise you? I do read practically everything."

Harry smiled slightly. "Yes, that you do."

He felt her kneel down next to him and one of hands found it's way into his flesh one. "You miss him," she observed. "I do too. He was taken long before his time, but he wouldn't want you to feel guilty, Harry."

Harry shook his head. "I can't get that look he gave me out of my head. Just before he was killed. He looked so shocked, scared...disappointed." He squeezed Hermione's hand, grateful for the comfort her touch provided. "He had just seen me kill Albus...that was his last memory of me before he died."

Hermione gazed at him sadly. She had known that he was one to kill Dumbledore, but hearing him say it like that had made it all the more real. But he showed no remorse for that. He had already explained his reasons and Hermione had accepted them, even if she didn't quite see it the same way. He was ashamed, though up until now he had been too proud to admit it; even now he did say it in so many words but Hermione had become quite skilled at reading between the lines over the years.

He wasn't ashamed of killing the Headmaster, he was ashamed that someone he loved had seen him for the monster he was, and then was killed before that damaged could be repaired.

And that was what Harry thought he was, Hermione realized. A monster. He believed and embraced it. Lived it. And she had to admit that in some respects it was true. He could kill and maim without hesitation, he could deceive and lie; but she also knew he could be kind and sweet and gentle and loving. Memories of that night they had spent together came back to her and she felt her cheeks grow warm.

She had spent the days after that night thinking about what she would say when she saw him again. Her first response had been hurt and anger, the former of which was greater, and she had expressed these quite well at the meeting; not with her preplanned words, but that couldn't be helped. And following that day, she had spent her days alternating between arguing with Sirius, James, Lily and the others whether they should trust him and trying to figure out if she did trust him. She wanted to trust him. Her feelings for him had not changed, despite the horror and hurt she had felt. When it came down to it, she was surprised to find that it really didn't bother her all that much that he was a killer; it was more of a programed reaction installed by what society thought than anything else.

What had bothered her the most was that he had kept it all hidden from her, and she had not seen it. Luna had seen it. Of that she was certain. Replaying all of the interactions between the three of them had cemented that knowledge in her head. Luna had seen all of it and accepted him as a friend. Trusted him.

Could she do the same? That was the question she had sought to answer.

She was afraid to admit it, but she was secretly thrilled at the thought of being so close to someone so dangerous. Sure, she was no stranger to the realm of dating. She'd had a few small relationships during her time at Hogwarts. It was nothing to write home about but they had happened. Nothing serious, really, just a couple of her fellow Ravenclaws, and each had ended in much the same way. They wanted something from her that she was not ready to give; something she _had_ given to Harry that night, and she did not regret it; not for a second. Even with all that she had learned of him since then, she had felt something that night, something real.

She, who had never before known anyone like him, could feel the pull between them like a physical force. She, so long in the light, was drawn to his darkness. Her quote a moment ago rang in her mind and she had never found anything to be more true than that in those moments.

Harry was a dark forest, this much she knew. The darkness was a part of him, entwined in his very being; in his soul. And she had dared to brave that darkness and had found something truly beautiful within. A fallen soul, seeking to be accepted. He was at home in the darkness, but lonely. So lonely. She doubted even he knew this, and if he did, he would not admit it, even to himself.

It was in this that she had discovered that her attraction was not just physical. It was mental. He had a great mind; keen and focused. It was spiritual. He was a broken man, who had pieced himself back together through trial and turmoil. His many scars were a testament to this. She looked at his metal arm, her gift to him, and realized that this was still true. She also realized something else; it was a bit of a paradox, but it seemed that being broken was what made Harry whole. And she would be the twine that held it all together at the seams.

Harry tilted his head in her direction. She was looking at him, her expression shifting ever so slightly as she thought. He could practically see the cogs turning in perfect sync and rhythm. Then she blushed and he grew curious as to what she was thinking. Then her expression grew thoughtful again, then sad, then sympathetic, then accepting.

"What are you thinking?" he asked.

Hermione smiled up at him. "That I think I'm finally beginning to see you. I mean, _truly_ see you."

Harry frowned and looked down. "You mean the monster."

Hermione shook her head and squeezed his hand again. "No. I mean, yes, I see the monster. But there is so much more than that, Harry. You aren't a monster. The monster is _a part_ of _you._ And I can accept that." His head snapped in her direction. This was not something he had ever expected to hear from her. "I wasn't lying when I said that I had fallen in love with you, Harry. And I still do, despite what some others may think. And loving you means that I have to at least accept all of you. I may not like some of it, or agree with some of it, but I accept it, because I love _you_."

Harry took a deep breath, his mind reeling and his heart pounding. "Thank you. And I just want you to know that I-"

He was cut off by Hermione kissing him softly. "I know," she whispered, her lips still touching his.

He sighed and rested his forehead against hers. "I can't change, Hermione. I'm in too deep for that."

"I know," she repeated. "It doesn't matter."

"It does," Harry protested. "I don't want to drag you down with me."

"You won't. You walk your path, Harry, and I'll be right here beside you." She smiled. "You won't be dragging me anywhere. I'll go willingly."

Harry closed his eyes. She didn't know what she was agreeing to, but he was far too grateful and, oddly enough, happy to contradict her.

They stood and Harry laid a hand on the gravestone. "Sorry, brother. I..." he trailed off, not sure what to say anymore. Finally he just nodded to himself, gave the stone a soft pat and turned away.

Hermione pulled him away and they walked hand-in-hand back to the kissing gate. Harry bent down at pecked Hermione softly on the lips. "Harry, that's not why its called a kissing gate, you know."

Harry shrugged. "I know." His tone said that he didn't care.

Hermione shook her head in an affectionate manner and smiled. Harry led her toward the ruins, which could not be seen from outside the wards. It was just an empty lot. Hermione frowned as they drew closer until she felt them pass through the wards. She gasped when she saw the ruins of the house. "Is this...?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. Where it all began. This was the house I was born in. The house I was stolen from. Where I was abandoned. This house is the beginning of my story. My dark beginning."

Hermione looked around at the burned and charred rubble. "I've never been here. I always wondered and had asked your mum about it, but James never allowed us to come here. Even when we laid Jimmy to rest he wouldn't even look in this direction."

"He's a coward," Harry said. "He can't face his own mistakes and likes to pretend that they never happened. I guess it helps him sleep at night."

Hermione nodded. She had long ago stopped trying to refute this. She had seen it herself over the holidays at Harry's family's house. "What are _we_ doing here?" she asked.

Harry knelt down and lifted the trap door open. "I live here," he answer, motioning her to climb down inside.

She did as she was bid and climbed down the ladder. Harry followed her down into the darkness, closing the trapdoor behind him, plunging them into absolute darkness. Harry could just see Hermione in the dark, but it appeared that she was completely blind down here. Another perk of his cursed werewolf scars.

"Harry?" Hermione asked, her voice containing a hint of fear in it. "Where are you?"

Harry stepped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, but not quite touching her yet, leaning in so his mouth was by her ear. "Right here," he whispered.

She jumped with a start and Harry closed his arms around her with a grin. Hermione slapped him on what she thought was his arm, but ended up hitting his chest instead. "That was not funny!" she pouted as Harry chuckled.

"It was, actually," Harry retorted, still laughing lightly.

"Prat," she huffed. "Are there no lights down here?"

Harry let her go and walked around her into the room, waving a hand, lighting the lamps he had set up around the space.

Hermione blinked in the sudden light and looked around, taking in the very spartan setting in which she found herself. She took in the stack of crates, the desk, the twin bookshelves, which stood bare, save for a lamp on each one, the thin bed of blankets on the floor in the corner.

"This is where you live now?" she asked. Even though Harry had already said as much, she wanted confirmation.

Harry was at the desk, closing a book and stacking sheets of parchment. "Yes. I came here immediately after fleeing Hogwarts. All that you see in here is what remains of my personal belongings. I was able to salvage it from Malfoy Manor. Everything else was at Hogwarts. It's surely locked away by the Aurors by now. Or destroyed." He sighed. All of that collected knowledge and wisdom lost. He had built that collection over several long years and it would take him just as long to restore it. Some tomes could not be replaced at all.

Hermione looked suddenly nervous. "Actually, it isn't."

Harry turned to her and arched a brow, "What do you mean? Surely they searched my quarters after they discovered what I had done."

Hermione nodded. "They did. But your stuff wasn't there for them to take."

Harry frowned. "What happened to it?"

Hermione grew red in the cheeks. "Itookallofitandhidit!" she said, all of her words coming out in one big rush, lumping together into one long unintelligible mess.

Harry cocked his head. "Pardon? I didn't catch any of that." He laughed lightly as he spoke.

Hermione blushed even brighter and took a deep breath to steady herself. "I sort of took it all," she said. "After reading your letter I knew they would come to your room eventually. I knew how rare a lot of that stuff was and I didn't want them to take it. So I took it and hid it."

Harry's face was neutral as he approached her. "You _took_ all of my stuff?" he asked.

Hermione nodded, her eyes growing wide as he approached. "Yes."

"And you hid it?"

"Yes."

He was only a step or two away from her now. "Where is it?"

Hermione took a step back but he caught her by the arms and pulled her against him. Hermione met his eyes. "Locked in your trunk, which is hidden in my room at Grimmauld Place."

Harry's eyes looked into hers, unblinking. "So let me get this straight, you _stole_ all of my items while I was gone and secreted them away from a bunch of Aurors and then stashed them in your room at the home of one of my enemies?" Hermione nodded. Harry blinked. "I could kiss you right now."

Hermione blinked too, then released a relieved breath. "What? You aren't mad?"

Harry smiled. "You tell me that you saved all of my personal belongings from Aurors and you expect me to be mad?" He laughed. "It's like you don't know me at all."

Hermione blushed. "Sorry." She didn't tell him that she had read his journal. Better to let him tell her things in his own time. She wanted to hear it all from his own lips anyway. That, and she was still wrapping her head around the kill-list she had found, of which her own name was on. Undoubtedly it had been written before they had met but it had still sent a chill down her spine to think that she had had Voldemort's most deadly assassin's eyes on her and hadn't even known she was a target.

Harry shook his head. "Don't be sorry, Hermione. You've done me a great service. And as far as getting to know me, the _real_ me, we have time for that. We'll have more once I kill Voldemort."

He stepped away from her and Hermione felt mildly disappointed at him not following up on his kiss comment. "That's actually the reason I'm here."

"Oh?" Harry asked, sitting down in the chair by the desk, conjuring a new one for her to sit in. She took the seat and crossed her legs at the knee.

"Yes," she nodded. "The Order has agreed to parley with you again. As a group. They want you to come to Grimmauld and sit in on one of their meetings. Discuss things with you."

"That's good to hear," Harry said. "The sooner we take the fight to Voldemort the better."

Hermione silently agreed. "You should know that James and Sirius were quite vocal about your offer to turn yourself over to the Aurors if they helped you take him down. I'm sure that they'll try to make it a binding condition for their agreement."

Harry nodded. "I do not doubt it. And I would not have made the offer if I was not willing to do it."

Hermione frowned. "I don't want you to do it," she said. "They'll see you to Azkaban for sure. Or worse, have you kissed by a Dementor."

Harry smirked. "I am not afraid to die, Hermione."

"Harry, the Dementor's Kiss doesn't kill you. It eats your soul," she told him, as if he didn't already know this.

Harry still smirked. "I know. But the joke is on them. The fools at the Ministry think that this is a fate worse than death. They are wrong. You've been through my books, I'm sure you've read _The Doors of Oblivion_. Actually, I know you have. You left it open that night you fell asleep in my room. Now, as you know that book is banned and the knowledge there lost to the masses. In it, it tells of Dementors and how they are creatures of the spirit world. Their kiss doesn't _eat_ your soul in the general sense, it pulls it through a portal into the next life. It's like dying but the shell is still functioning. It is the opposite of what the Hangman and I did to the Longbottoms. They were trapped inside their own bodies. I set them free by killing them. They are in a better place now."

Hermione shook her head. "Harry, that's just a theory."

Harry nodded. "Yeah. But It's one I choose to believe."

"For your sake, I hope you're right," Hermione said quietly.

"Me too," he agreed. "Let's not think of such morbid things. Tell me, beyond James and Sirius, what seems to be the general mood concerning our alliance? I want to know what I'm walking into."

Hermione shrugged. "There's a lot of mistrust. Most of them want to see you punished for what you did to the Order." At Harry's raised eyebrow she smirked slightly. "You _did_ kill quite a few of our members."

"Oh yeah," Harry said, having momentarily forgotten that. Not. "And I don't regret a single one of them. I had a reason for each one."

"Well, don't go telling them that, okay?" Hermione told him. "They won't believe you anyway."

Harry conceded that she was right.

"Charlie seems at least willing to look past all of that if it will end this war. Bill too. Charlie may have something to do with that, though. He told the Order about you cutting off your arm to removed the Mark. I told him about that. Like I said, Bill and Charlie seem to at least be willing to work with you. Fleur and Tonks too; Fleur only because of Bill."

"What about Luna?" Harry asked.

Hermione shook her head. "Luna isn't part of the Order."

Harry nodded. "We'll have to change that. Not have her join the Order, but bring her in as an ally. We've both seen how useful she can be."

Hermione nodded her head. "I'll send her a letter, ask her to meet us."

Harry nodded. "I'd like to meet with her and her father before I meet with the Order. It will be good to have some allies who have no loyalty to the Order."

"All right," Hermione agreed. She looked at her watch. "I should probably get back. They'll be wondering what's keeping me. I was supposed to just tell you the time and place of the meeting then come straight back. They probably think you've kidnapped me and are holding me hostage or something."

Harry frowned. "I think I have some rope around here somewhere." He glanced around.

Hermione's eyes went wide. "You're joking, right?"

Harry shrugged. "Haven't decided yet." He looked at her seriously and then burst into laughter as her eyes grew so large that they began to resemble Luna's. "Don't worry, Hermione. I won't be tying you up." He paused. "Unless you're into that sort of thing?" He wiggled his eyebrows at her, making her blush crimson.

He laughed again and she couldn't help but giggle too. "Stop it."

Harry sighed and stood up, reaching down to take her hands. He pulled her up to him and pressed his lips to hers in a searing kiss. "I will see you soon," he said when they parted.

Hermione nodded. "Two weeks from now, Grimmauld. I'll send a letter to let you know when we'll be meeting Luna and her father."

When she disappeared, courtesy of Dobby, Harry felt a part of him go with her. He looked around the basement. It suddenly felt very empty without her there, and he had never felt so lonely.

 **XXXX**

 **A/N: Well, then. I hope this chapter was pleasing. I was really worried about it, but I don't just write this story for you all – despite that I love hearing that you all enjoy it – and you are all the second half of my reason, but I also write for myself. I have a story in my head that needs to be told and that's what this is.**

 **I had meant to have this ready hours ago but I've been having migraines and it was slow going at the end. Sorry.**

 **Let me know what you all think.**


	26. The Sign of the Deathly Hallows

**XXVI. The Sign of the Deathly Hallows**

 _Dear Harry,_

 _I know it's only been a few days since we last saw each other but I can't help but feel like it has been an eternity. Being here with the Order is stifling. Mrs. Weasley keeps insisting, in equal amounts, that I am too young to be part of the Order and that we should never have trusted you in the first place. I can understand one part of her argument at least, and that is that your return was rather sudden and suspicious, even I saw that much, but the rest is pure bollocks. She keeps saying how obvious it was that you were going to kill one of us. I didn't see that coming at all, and I was with you the most of the time; more than anyone else, to be sure, save perhaps Luna and Jimmy._

 _Speaking of Luna, I have written to her and she and her father have agreed to meet with us in two days time at their home in Ottery St. Catchpole, Devon, England. They want us over for tea. Mr. Lovegood seemed rather excited to meet you, if what Luna says is anything to go by._

 _I have kept this meeting secret from the rest of the Order, which is why I sent it with Rune. I don't know if you sent him to me just in case or if he's just so smart that he knew he would be needed. Either way, the Order are notorious for intercepting owls and reading our mail – incoming and outgoing – but your friend here is a bit more than they are used to. I remember seeing him ambush the owl that used to bring you the Prophet every morning at school. Poor thing never knew what hit it. He didn't hurt it but he did down it long enough to deliver the paper himself and then would return with your payment. I have to confess that I've never seen a bird so smart._

 _Anyway, given the Order's habit for over-protectiveness, I have to keep our correspondence secret. If they knew that I was in contact with you, and what we shared, they would no doubts lock me up and forbid me from leaving or speaking to anyone. Probably put a round the clock guard on me too. Molly would insist that you were plotting to kill me or some such nefarious thing._

 _Charlie and Bill are also suffering under Mrs. Weasley's tyranny. Poor Bill looks like he's one insult to his wife away from cursing everyone in sight, and Charlie is just about over edge with her constant attempts to get him to spend time with Tonks – neither of them are appreciative of or keen on the idea. They dated once while at Hogwarts and well, Charlie was more interested in his dragons than in romance. Still is from what I can tell. Besides, until recently, Tonks had her eye on Remus. Weird, right? Not sure what happened but she doesn't seem very happy with him now._

 _I've been trying to get a better read on how the mood toward you is. So far, my initial assessment seems to have been accurate. Bill and Charlie are at least willing to sit down and try to work things out. Fleur and Tonks too._

 _James and Sirius, of course, are calling for you to turn yourself in and are being quite childish about the whole ordeal._

 _Lily, your mum, she just seems sad. Stays locked in her room back at Potter Manor and barely comes out. She hasn't shown up to a meeting since the truth came out. I keep trying to talk to her, but I don't know what to say to her. She misses Jimmy, and she misses you. Not only has she lost her youngest son, but she's lost her first again. I think you should talk to her, Harry. I know your opinion of James will never change, and probably goes deeper than you'll say, given how you were raised, but that deep hatred doesn't seem to be extended to her. I could be wrong but I don't think I am._

 _Mrs. Weasley is in agreement with James and Sirius in this matter – don't tell either of them this though, she never agrees with Sirius, on principle – and wants you to be captured and sent to Azkaban._

 _Mr. Weasley on the other hand is a more reserved man. He refuses to take a stance until the meeting with you. Probably because he's never met you and wants to judge what type of person you are first hand rather than through the filter of other's opinions. Doesn't mean that he'll like you, just means he's reserving judgement._

 _Hagrid is still in denial. He doesn't believe that you would be capable of killing anyone, let alone Dumbledore. You'll have to burst that bubble, I think. It's for the best._

 _Moody...well, Moody is of half a mind to arrest you and the other half wants to use you like a weapon. I know you don't like that comparison, having basically been used in such a manner by Voldemort for years. But at least he can be swayed to not attack you on sight._

 _The twins, Fred and George, you remember them right? Well, they are more than a little shocked. On one hand, they actually liked you when they met you at their shop, and on the other they liked Dumbledore because he actually encouraged their pranks and such. Always up for a laugh, they said. I think they're leaning toward hearing you out though, if only because their mother is against you. That woman really has divided her family. Her daughter, Ginny, is siding with her, and Ron too – no surprises there. Percy, the third eldest, is with them as well. So as it stands with the Weasleys we have Mr. Weasley, Bill, Charlie, Fleur, Fred and George willing to at least meet with you and Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, Ron and Percy against you._

 _Ron is just jealous of the closeness you and I have, or had as far as he knows. He is upset that you and I were closer with one school year than he and I ever were in seven. Git. He seems to think he has some sort of claim on me since he's apparently fancied me since our fourth year. Well, it doesn't work like that so he can go dunk his head for all I care._

 _McGonagall just cried when she found out. I don't know where she stands, and to be honest I'm almost afraid to ask her. She and Dumbledore were as close as siblings, having known each other for years, or so I'm told._

 _We haven't heard from or seen Aberforth, Professor Dumbledore's brother, since the funeral. You missed that too. They buried him in a big tomb at Hogwarts. It was made from white marble; really majestic and proud looking. I think he would have found it flattering but excessive._

 _Anyway, sorry this is so long but once I started writing it just spewed out. I didn't know where to stop. Oh, I almost forgot. Neville showed up at our last meeting. I thought you should know that he's joined us. We haven't told him about you yet and Snape, you know, Professor Snape – yeah, he's in the Order too; did you know that? Were you aware that he was a spy for us? I shouldn't think so, else he wouldn't be very good at his job. Anyway, he sort of decided for us that we would not tell him until the meeting. Don't want him flying off the handle. He probably will anyway, but let's let them pretend it will all be okay. I mean, how would you respond if you found yourself sitting in a room with the man who not only tortured your parents into a vegetable state then came back and killed them later? Wow, that didn't sound so bad in my head. It still baffles me some of the things you've done. I'm still having trouble reconciling the cold-blooded killer with the gentle and kind man I know. I don't know if I'll ever be able to, to be honest._

 _You know, I've been hearing a few members whispering after meetings about something. I think an attack or something they are planning. I don't know, it hasn't been brought to the table yet. But it is the Ministry workers who are all talking about it. Mr. Weasley, Percy, James, Sirius and Moody; they won't say anything if I ask them. Perhaps they'll bring it up at the meeting with you. I've heard your name whispered a few times while their talking so I think it at least has something to do with you._

 _You have a lot of insider knowledge of Voldemort's operation, so does Snape but he can't say much lest he blow his cover, you know, or at least that's what he says. They'll want to use that. You mentioned that you kept stuff at Malfoy Manor, so I can only assume that you at least stayed there sometimes, if you didn't live there. I didn't mention this to anyone. If they thought I could get information out of you they'd ask me to use our connection to get more information out of you and manipulate you into doing what they want. I won't do that to you, Harry, so I'm keeping quiet on the matter._

 _They wanted to know why I took so long getting back the other day, as I said they would. I told them that you were out and I had to wait. I didn't tell them where you were holed up. They asked, but I told them that it was underground and I never saw the outside so I didn't know. They bought that; it was only a half lie._

 _Oh, there I go again, rambling on and on. I keep forgetting that I've already filled two sheets of parchment here. I'm sure you are quite bored with my voice...er, writing, by now. Well, that was weird. Okay, okay, I'll end this now. See you soon._

 _With Love,_

 _Hermione_

Harry shook his head with a smile and set the two pieces of parchment down on the desk. He looked at Rune, who sat watching him from his perch. The damned bird was so independent sometimes that it was ridiculous. He didn't mind him going to Hermione without being told to, it had served a purpose.

"You and I have got to work on our communication," Harry said, pointing at the raven. Rune just cawed in response, sounding almost like a scoff.

Harry shook his head and thought about Hermione's letter. It was quite long, he had to admit, but full of useful information. He would say that he didn't care what the others thought of him, but that wasn't necessarily true. He cared, in the sense that he would be more prepared to deal with them if he knew where they stood.

What Hermione had said about the Weasleys being divided intrigued him. The fact that there were more of them on the side of at least hearing him out made him wonder about Mrs. Weasley. She seemed a horrible woman, based on the way Hermione spoke. It wasn't what she said, it was the way she said it, her wording. She had basically called her a tyrant. And Bill and Charlie didn't seem too fond of her. How bad was this woman? He had a feeling he was going to have to restrain himself from killing the woman at some point. Or maybe not restrain himself. He'd have to wait see how things played out. He just felt that it should be known that he had no qualms about killing any of them. Except Hermione, obviously.

His mother was a factor he had not considered. As it had turned out, she was not the woman he had expected all of those years. He had seen the memory of the night he was abandoned. He knew that she had wanted to go back for him, but for some reason he had all along considered her to have been as much of a coward as his father was. This turned out not to be so. She was kind, and loving, strong and intelligent. He could see how she and Hermione had become so close; they weren't the same – Hermione had an unrestricted curiosity that his mother did not and was willing to delve into the subjects most considered too dark or vile to even think about – but there was enough common ground between them that they could easily relate to each other.

She had been a good mother to Jimmy, and Harry considered that she probably would have been a good one to him too had things fallen in a different way. Perhaps if they had gone back for him they could have been a normal family. Or they would have all died.

He sighed. There was no use dwelling on what might have been. It was done, set in stone, and there was no going back or changing it, so he needn't waste his time. But it begged the question of what he wanted to do with his mother. He had already long decided that James' fate was sealed. He would die by Harry's hand. His mother, on the other hand, was a different matter altogether. He could kill her, he knew that much. He could do it and not feel remorse – and if he did feel remorse, he could bury it deep and forget about it – but would it serve a purpose to do so? In the past he would have said yes, that it served the purpose of punishing them for what they did to him; but now, at current, he would have to say no. That could change, at a moment's notice though.

The thought crossed his mind that there was the possibility that they would not agree to help him. Could he do all of this by himself? He was fairly confident that he could do it, but would he walk away from it? He would rather not be taken down by Voldemort or one of his lackeys. No, he had to convince them that he was needed. Yes, they _needed_ him. This was beyond refute. So far, they had been ineffective in taking down Voldemort; he would know, he had killed several of them over the years. Voldemort was winning this war right now, even with the severe blows Harry had dealt him in killing Bellatrix, Selwyn, Gibbon, Avery, MacNair, Nott and Shunpike, getting Rowle captured and depriving him of his greatest weapon – himself.

Okay, perhaps that was bordering on arrogance, but it was no less true. The only one left on Voldemort's side who could offer him any contest was Barty, and perhaps Snape if the latter caught him off guard, but the rest would be lambs to the slaughter. Greyback might present some difficulty, as the man was notoriously difficult to kill. Many had tried and failed over the years.

He pulled a blank sheet of parchment out of his desk along with a quill and ink. He wasn't much for writing letters, but Hermione would be expecting a reply so he'd have to make an exception.

 _Hermione,_

He paused and shook his head. No. Too impersonal. He pulled Hermione's own letter back over and looked at how she had addressed it. He frowned. Was this a normal thing or was it something that depended on the relationship between the two correspondents? He had only ever addressed letters with the name, no prefix or any other such thing. He decided to just follow Hermione's lead in this matter. He waved a hand the ink vanished, leaving the page blank once more.

 _Dearest Hermione,_

 _I do not normally partake in letter writing. Often in the past I was not expected to respond and other times I just never bothered to. There was no point, but I fear it would be rude of me not to write back to you. So, here it is._

 _It is good that Luna and her father have agreed to meet with us. As I said, it will be good to have some allies in our corner. Ah, forgive me. I hope I am not being too pretentious in saying 'us' and 'our' rather than 'me' and 'my'. I will not ask you to take sides against those you care about._

 _This Mrs. Weasley, Molly I believe her name is, sounds like a horrible woman if you are describing her as a tyrant and her own sons are at odds with her. I only hope she does not try to start anything in my presence. My self-control may be excellent but even I have been known to lose my temper at times. The last time that happened, three people died as a result...Um. Perhaps I should not have said that. This writing thing is difficult._

 _It does bother me that Moody would wish to use me as a weapon, but it is a feeling I am used to and I may be able to use that to my advantage. Let's face facts here, love. They need me. They may not realize it yet, but they do. Voldemort is winning this war and has been for some time now. I must confess that I played a large role in that, but you knew that already. I am honestly surprised that he has not lashed out in his anger at my killing Bellatrix LeStrange. She was his favorite. This is no doubt the influence of Severus. And for the record, yes I did know that he was a spy. Everyone in the Dark Lord's camp did. It was no secret to them. He, in fact, spies for both sides. How do you think we were always able to know you all were coming? He tipped us off in advance. Now, where the man's true allegiances lie, I cannot say. I believe he is much like me in that he is not on either sides; he is on his own side. I am the same. I will fight with others if it suits my purpose but if not, I can just as easily become an enemy. Don't worry though, you have nothing to fear from me._

 _It gladdens me to know that I will at least not be walking into a room full of people ready hex and/or curse me. Or both, as the situation may be. I would so hate to have to kill my way out of there. Well, not really but I'm not supposed to say that am I? Damn. I just did._

 _I will speak to my mother if I get a chance. I cannot imagine she is taking Jimmy's death any better than I am._

 _And don't worry about Neville. He will not be an issue. I'll make sure of it._

 _Now, I have already written far more than I would normally consider adequate. Do not take offense, it is nothing against you, I just never know what to write in these things. It is so much easier to hold a conversation face-to-face than in writing._

 _Love,_

 _Harry._

 _P.S.: I could never get tired of your voice, written or otherwise._

He nodded his head and folded it up. He sealed it with wax and magically pressed his sigil into it and called Rune over. He handed the letter to the bird, who took it in his beak and flew to the trapdoor, which Harry opened with a wave of his hand, then closed again after his familiar was gone.

He had not thought about Neville being there until he had reached the end of his letter. It was more of an afterthought than anything. If he was honest, he was a bit annoyed with this development. He may have assured Hermione that it would not be a problem, but he knew that it would be. If only on Neville's side. What were they thinking, not telling him about Harry being at the meeting. He may not know that Harry was the God of Death, as the Prophet had not reported that; they didn't know; but the Order did, and Neville would put the pieces together once the meeting started and someone let slip that he had killed Dumbledore; it would happen too, he just knew it would.

He took a deep breath and exhaled. He'd burn that bridge when he came to it. For now, he had to focus on recruiting Xenophilius and Luna to his cause. He didn't think he'd have too much difficulty in doing so as Xenophilius was one of those Boy-Who-Lived believers and Luna seemed to share his belief, despite never saying it in so many words.

 **XXXX**

Harry and Hermione stood looking at the tall, rook-like structure in from of them. They were standing about half a mile from the place, which was, according to Hermione, the location of the Lovegood home.

Harry wasn't surprised one little bit. Of course Luna would live in a tower. Why not? And her father? Well, he was certain there was a mad wizard in a tower joke there somewhere. The place looked like a ruin, its walls collapsed the interior rotted away over the centuries. Harry knew this was a facade; it had to be, that or Luna had given them the wrong address. No, he was quite certain this was the place and the tower would look much different once they got closer.

He looked at Hermione, taking in the way her hair lifted and swayed in the breeze. She felt him looking and smiled at him, offering her hand, which he took after only a moment of hesitation, lacing their fingers together.

They walked the rest of the way to the house, noting the wards as they passed through them. He had been right. As soon as they passed through the wards the ruin faded away to reveal a rather impressive tower with a door at its base and several windows dotting the upper levels; each window being covered from within by a deep blue curtain. Ravenclaw colors. All except the bottom level, that is. The bottom level had a set of windows on one side that were opened up to let the cool breeze into the house.

As Harry and Hermione were approaching the door it opened and Luna stood there smiling serenely down at them. She noted their entwined hands and her eyes sparkled. "Hello, you two. You're just in time. Daddy just put the kettle on."

She ushered them inside, taking their cloaks and hanging them on a claw of some sort by the door. "How did you know we were here, Luna?" Harry asked. The window didn't face the direction that they had come from.

Luna led them deeper into the house. "I just knew," was all she said.

Luna led them into a parlour where a man in pale yellow robes that were quite worn was kneeling in front of a fireplace, dropping a small metal ball with holes dotting it into the not-yet-boiling kettle. He must have heard them because he stood and faced them. Harry thought he looked a bit like Lucius Malfoy, but with a more keen, intelligent look in his eyes that Mr. Malfoy would never be able to achieve. His hair was long and pale blonde, falling in curtains to frame his refined features. Harry got the feeling that this man could be very dangerous if pushed to it. But he was presenting himself with a warm smile and a ponderous air.

His eyes bore into Harry's and Harry got the impression that the man was looking right through him for a moment, then it was gone and he was smiling again with kindness and a small bit of reverence.

"Mr. Potter, welcome, welcome to my home, it is an honor," he bowed slightly to Harry, but his eyes never lowered.

Harry nodded in return. "The honor is mine, Mr. Lovegood. You have written such flattering articles about me in your publication, despite the general consensus that I am no more than a common Death Eater."

Xenophilius smiled. "Oh, there is nothing common about you, Mr. Potter. You are the Boy-Who-Lived. Chosen by the Dark Lord himself to raise and mold, but you were never his." He blinked. "Luna has told me much about you. She speaks very highly of you, as she should." He smiled gently at his daughter who didn't appear to even be paying attention to them, humming quietly to herself from a chair by the window, eyes tracking something none but her could see as it flew in slow circles above her head.

Harry looked her with some concern. For all of his eccentricities, Xeno seemed to have a level head on his shoulder and his oddness was nowhere near as pronounced as Luna's.

Xeno must have noted the look on Harry's face because he said, "You must forgive her. Ever since her mother, my wife Pandora, died, Luna's mind has not been the same. She saw the whole thing happen just out there." He pointed out the window that Luna was sitting in front of. Harry peered passed the blonde to see an outdoor potions station set up. "Pandora loved working out under the sun. She was an accomplished potioneer, but liked to experiment. One of her experiments went disastrously wrong and the cauldron exploded. The shrapnel from the cauldron...it..." he took a deep breath, pain filling his eyes at the memory.

Harry placed a hand on Luna's shoulder and looked at Xenophilius. "I'm sorry for your loss."

Xenophilius nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Potter. But she is in a better place now. I know that to be true." He turned to the kettle as it began to whistle.

The noise pulled Luna out of her stupor and she became aware of Harry's hand on her shoulder, her own reaching up to cover it momentarily before falling into her lap. Harry squeezed her shoulder lightly before moving away to take a cup of tea from Xenophilius, who had already passed one to Hermione, who had taken a seat by the wall and watched the exchange with interest, her eyes now settled sympathetically on Luna.

"So, Mr. Lovegood," Hermione spoke for the first time.

Xenophilius _tsk_ ed softly. "Now, now, Ms. Granger, you have been kind to my daughter for many years now. Her only real friend for so long, as she tells it. You can call me Xenophilius, or Xeno if you wish. Mr. Potter, you too. Mr. Lovegood is for those who do not know me or my family."

Harry nodded. "Then I must insist that you call me Harry instead of Mr. Potter. Mr. Potter is my father."

"A man whom you hate," Xeno said, nodding sagely. "Ah, forgive me. Luna tells me much. She does not mean to pry but sometimes she forgets to control herself. She's a very special girl, my Luna."

Harry smiled and sat down in a chair that he conjured next to Hermione's while Xeno sat in a comfy chair in the corner. "We know. She's proven herself a loyal friend."

"When did you lose your arm?" Luna asked, her voice cutting through the room like the severing charm that had done the very deed she was asking about.

Harry looked down at his metal arm, which was covered by a sleeve and a glove. He rubbed the forearm of it uncomfortably. "A couple of weeks ago," he answered. "I tried to removed the Dark Mark, but it had a fail-safe that tried to drain my life away, so I had to cut it off." He removed the glove. "Hermione was kind enough to give me this one until I can find a way to grow a new one."

Luna stood up and walked over to him. "May I?" she asked, holding out a hand.

Harry raised his arm to her, silently giving her permission to examine it.

"You should have come to me. I could have helped you," she said, her eyes scanning the flawless, reflective surface of the hand. "A pity. I don't know of a way to regrow an arm." She let go and went back to her chair. "It's very fine magic though. Hermione does good work." She smiled at Hermione with some pride in her expression, causing Hermione to blush lightly at the praise.

"I've been looking into rituals," Hermione said. "I have Harry's books and have been going through some of the more obscure or rare volumes. So far I haven't found anything but I am confident I will."

"In the meantime, this thing packs quite a punch. Literally." Harry smirked, remembering the way he had easily killed the four men in Knockturn Alley. The Prophet had reported the incident the next day, eyewitnesses were scarce and it seemed that none wanted to talk about who had done it. That was a good thing.

Hermione cleared her throat. "All of this small talk is all well and good, but we didn't come here for the tea," she said. "No offense, Xeno."

Xenophilius shook his head. "Think nothing of it, Ms. Granger."

"Hermione, please," Hermione corrected.

Xeno inclined his head. "Of course. Hermione, Harry, I understand that you have something to ask of my daughter and I." They both nodded. "I'm afraid I do not have much to offer the two of you, but by all means, ask, and if it is within my power I will give it."

Harry met his eyes. "Luna tells me that you believe me to be some sort of savior. I don't know if I believe in that, but I do know that I don't have many allies left. I am going to attempt a temporary truce with the Order of the Phoenix. You know who they are, yes?"

Xeno nodded. "I do. Dumbledore's army. Or at least they were, until you killed him. By right, they are yours now. To the victor go the spoils. You keep what you kill. Much like that wand you carry. You won it from him that night, did you not?" He smiled when Harry glanced at said wand, hidden under his shirt. "Come now, Harry. Did you not expect me to know when I was so close to one of the Deathly Hallows?"

Hermione sat forward in her seat. "The Deathly Hallows? Like the items from the Tale of the Three Brothers?"

Xenophilius nodded. "The very same." He took a sip of tea and then set the cup aside. "I, like so many before me, have long sought them. However, unlike the others, I have no desire to have them for myself. Only to serve the Master of Death. Or, in this case, the _God_ of Death." He gave Harry a meaningful look.

"How did you..?" Harry gaped.

Xeno smiled again. "As I said, Luna tells me many things."

Luna smiled dreamily at them. "I can see many things, Harry. Things that others cannot. Wrackspurts, Nargles, auras. Thoughts..."

Harry frowned but did not say anything.

"Are you going to turn us in?" Hermione asked, looking worried but ready to fight if she had to.

Xenophilius chuckled. "No, Ms. Granger – sorry, Hermione – I am not going to turn you in. As I said, I only desire to aid the keeper of the Hallows. Harry here, already possesses one. And I have no doubts that the other two will find their way to him in time. Now, what was it you both wished to ask of me?"

Harry sighed. "I need allies, Xenophilius. People I can trust to stand beside me when the time comes to destroy Voldemort. Luna has proven herself a loyal friend but I must ask more of her now, and of you as well."

"Harry, my father and I are already on your side," Luna said. "You need only ask and we will fight for you."

Xenophilius nodded along with his daughter. "My hands, your will."

Harry nodded solemnly. "Thank you. Both of you."

"Pardon me, Xeno, but what is that you are wearing? I've seen it before," Hermione pointed at a silver talisman hanging from Xenophilius' neck.

He smirked and lifted it up for them to see, letting it rest in contrast against his palm. It was a triangle with a circle within it and a single vertical line down the middle of the two and it glinted almost enticingly in the light. Harry knew it instantly. "This is the sign of the Deathly Hallows. Many nowadays mistake it for the symbol of Grindelwald, but he merely adopted it. He, like myself, was a devout believer in the Hallows. He even came into possession of one of them. The Elder Wand, which Harry here now holds."

Hermione looked at Harry. "I saw that symbol on a grave in Godric's Hollow when we buried Jimmy."

Harry nodded, taking her hand in his as he thought about his brother again. "Ignotus Peverell," he said. "I saw it too. James said that we were descended from him and he had passed one of the Hallows down to him. I didn't believe him. I'm not sure I do _now_."

"Ignotus," Xenophilius said reverently. "The Third Brother. Keeper of the Cloak of Invisibility, said to be able to hide one from even Death. There are several invisibility cloaks out there, but they are pale imitations of the original. You are descended from one of the original wielders of the Hallows, Harry. I do not doubt that your father was telling the truth about the Cloak. And now you know the location of another Hallow. Only one to go, and you will truly be the God of Death. Or at least, his instrument here on the mortal plane."

"We'll be there," Luna said.

Harry looked at her and raised a brow.

"Hermione was thinking that she wanted to ask us to accompany you to this meeting with the Order," she said. Hermione blushed as Harry turned his gaze on her. "We will be there."

Harry nodded. "I will send my House Elf to fetch the two of you the day of the meeting. We will convene beforehand at my safe house and then go in together."

Luna and Xeno nodded their agreement. Xeno stood and went into the kitchen saying, "This calls for something a bit stronger, I think." He came back with a bottle of mead. "This is a bottle of mead rescued from a cask on the wreck of the Wolfwind, the ship of the great Saxon chieftain and shaman Cerdic of Wessex, who fought King Arthur at Badon Hill. He sought to keep the Old Ways alive but was defeated by the christian Arthur with the help of Myrddin Wyllt, who later became know as Merlin." He looked at the bottle. "I had planned to keep this for a special occasion; perhaps Luna's wedding day...but meeting the God of Death, that is cause enough."

He poured them all a glass and passed them around.

"To the gods," Xenophilius said, raising his glass.

"To love," Hermione added, glancing at Harry.

"To friends," Luna said, eying both Harry and Hermione with a smile.

Harry raised his own and intoned softly, "To Death."

And after pouring a bit into the earthen floor for those they had toasted, they all drank.

 **XXXX**

 **A/N: All right. So, that was a hard chapter to write. Harry's disdain for letter writing is something I share with him. I hate emails, text messages and letters. I also don't care so much for phone calls but they are better than the others. Everyone seems to have forgotten the art of speaking face-to-face these days. I've seen people text each other while sitting right next to each other. Pathetic.**

 **Anyway, I hope Xenophilius is portrayed decently. I had a bit of difficulty making him interact in an interesting yet real manner. Luna too, in this chapter. It was harder with Xeno around for some reason. I chalk it up to Luna being a bit less open at home because she has a lot of painful memories there. Her mother died right in front of her and she has to live everyday in the place it happened. See it everyday. She is constantly reminded of it. Xeno too, but he was older and more matured when it happened and he was able to cope with his grief easier than Luna. He had to as he was left as a single parent at that point. He does the best he can and truly loves his daughter.**

 **Anyway. Please leave a review and let me know what you all thought.**


	27. The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

**XVII. The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea**

Harry smiled at Luna and Xenophilius as they appeared in the basement of the Potter house in Godric's Hollow. Dobby was holding each of them by a hand, looking rather proud of himself. He released them and bowed lowly to them. "Mr. Harry Potter Sir's guest is being arriving now." With that he popped away, leaving the two blondes to look about at Harry's rather spartan abode.

Xeno caught sight of the trapdoor and ladder and smiled. "Underground is it? Well, decided, Harry. The Ministry's Wrackspurts would not be able to find you down here."

Harry, who had been sitting at his desk, writing in his journal, which had been returned by Hermione the day they went to meet with the Lovegoods at their home, turned and smiled at them, closing his small leather book as he did.

He had been updating his kill-list. Some things had changed since he had last updated it before going to Hogwarts. It now read as thus:

 _Albus Dumbledore /_

 _Aberforth Dumbledore_

 _James Potter_

 _Lily Potter (née Evans)_

 _Sirius Black_

 _Remus Lupin_

 _Bartemius Crouch Sr._

 _Rufus Scrimgeour_

 _Cornelius Fudge_

 _Alastor Moody_

 _Kingsley Shacklebolt_

 _Minerva McGonagall_

 _Frank Longbottom /_

 _Alice Longbottom /_

 _Dedalus Diggle /_

 _Emmaline Vance /_

 _Elphias Doge /_

 _Edgar Bones /_

 _Amelia Bones /_

 _Dorcas Meadowes /_

 _Mundungus Fletcher /_

 _Hestia Jones /_

 _Rubeus Hagrid_

 _Sturgis Podmore /_

 _Marlene Mckinnon /_

 _Gideon Prewett /_

 _Fabian Prewett /_

 _Arthur Weasley_

 _Molly Weasley (née Prewett)_

 _Bill Weasley_

 _Charlie Weasley_

 _Fred Weasley_

 _George Weasley_

 _Fleur Weasley (née Delacour)_

 _Ronald Weasley_

 _Percy Weasley_

 _Ginevra Weasley_

 _Nymphadora Tonks_

 _Neville Longbottom_

 _Tom M. Riddle Jr. (Voldemort)_

 _Lucius Malfoy_

 _Narcissa Malfoy_

 _Draco Malfoy_

 _Bellatrix LeStrange /_

 _Fenrir Greyback_

 _Theodore Nott Sr. /_

 _Theodore Nott Jr._

 _Gregory Goyle Sr._

 _Gregory Goyle Jr._

 _Vincent Crabbe Sr._

 _Vincent Crabbe Jr._

 _Blaise Zabini_

 _Pansy Parkinson_

 _Nils Parkinson_

 _Walden MacNair /_

 _Jon Avery /_

 _Stan Shunpike /_

 _Marcus Selwyn /_

 _Joseph Gibbon /_

 _Peter Pettigrew_

 _Severus Snape_

 _Amycus Carrow_

 _Alecto Carrow_

 _Rodolphus LeStrange_

 _Rabastan LeStrange_

 _Ludwig Jugson_

 _Thorfinn Rowle_

 _Augustus Rookwood_

 _Kellen Travers_

 _Tiberius Yaxley_

 _Antonin Dolohov_

 _Igor Karkaroff_

 _Barty Crouch Jr._

It had been with a great sense of loss that he had written in that last name. He had removed Hermione though, and he had considered removing some of the Weasleys that Hermione said were willing to work with him but decided against it. It was too soon to tell how the winds would change and they could very well find themselves with their blood on his figurative blade. Likewise, they could prove to be as promising as the two now standing before him.

He waved his hand and two more chairs appeared. "Please, have a seat. We have some time yet before we are due to depart for my other house."

Luna brightened. "Other house?"

Harry nodded. "Yes. Grimmauld Place, the location of the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, is mine by right. I was named the Lord of House Black at the age of five when I killed Walburga Black."

"Five? My, my, Harry. You have been busy," Xeno noted.

"I did not kill again until I was eleven. A man by the name of Sturgis Podmore, a member of the Order, tried to infiltrate Voldemort's camp but he failed. I killed him, but it was not without its cost." He reached up and rubbed the place where the scar from that encounter was located on his left breast.

"You said Grimmauld was your other house. Where are we now?" Luna asked, looking up at the ceiling.

"This is where it all began. I was born in this house. Sadly, yet fittingly, this basement is all that remains of the structure. The rest of the house burned down the night Voldemort took me away." His eyes glossed over as he recalled the memory.

"We're in Godric's Hollow?" Xeno exclaimed. "Ah. I should have known this is where you would be. So much is linked to this place. Your birth, your disappearance, the birth of the Three Brothers, their resting places, Grindelwald, Dumbledore. It's all connected."

Harry conceded this truth. "I was not the first one here though," he said. "Someone had already set up some wards around the place so only magicals could find it. I just expanded on it so that only I, or those I permit, can find it, let alone enter it."

"The Peverells are buried here," Xeno said thoughtfully. "Perhaps one of the Hallows is buried with them. Not the Wand, obviously, or the Cloak if your father was telling the truth, but the Stone could be here."

Luna shook her head at her dad. "No. I can feel the energy off of the Wand, and there is nothing else like it in the area."

Xeno looked crestfallen but it did not stick. "Oh well. I suppose that would have been too easy."

They conversed amiably for an hour or so before Harry pulled out his watch and opened it. "It's time," he said, standing up from his chair. Luna and Xenophilius followed suit. He donned his cloak and lifted his wooden mask down from its place on the wall, placing it over his face, then pulling the hood over his head. Luna and Xeno had donned dark hooded robes that concealed their identity as well. "Dobby, Kreacher."

The two elves appeared and bowed to Harry, pointedly ignoring each other. "Mister Harry Potter Sir," Dobby exclaimed, as excitable as ever, while Kreacher muttered darkly about improper Elf behavior.

"Dobby, take Luna and her father to Grimmauld Place. Hermione should be waiting for you so take them wherever she is. I will be right behind you with Kreacher."

"Yes, Mister Harry Potter Sir!"

Dobby took both of their hands and with a _pop_ the three were gone. Harry looked at Kreacher. "You're smiling, Kreacher," Harry noted.

The old Elf was indeed sporting a smile, which was a rare thing indeed. "Today is being a happy day, Master. Today, Master is being taking control of his house again. No more will Kreacher have to cater to the blood-traitor and his ilk."

Harry shook his head. He had no intentions of driving Sirius out of the house just yet, but Kreacher didn't need to know this. "I trust that you have been keeping an eye on things there for me?"

Kreacher nodded. "I has, Master. Your Grangey Lady is being kind to Kreacher, and I is not calling her mudblood, as you asked. I is being listening in on the blood-traitor's meetings. They is planning a raid, at the Ministry. Something important is being there and they wish to get it before the Moldy One does."

That was interesting. This information, coupled with what Hermione had told him, was something he would have to bring up, if they didn't do it themselves. "Interesting. You have heard no mention of exactly what they are seeking?"

Kreacher shook his head. "No, Master. They is not knowing what it is, just that the Moldy One wants it."

Harry nodded, logging that away. So, the Order knew that Voldemort was after something, but they didn't know what. He had to admit that it was logical to try and prevent this. Whatever it was, it couldn't be good, otherwise Voldemort would not want it.

"Very well. Let's get going. Like we planned, okay?"

Kreacher nodded and bowed. "Yes, Master." He reached up and took Harry's and there was a small squeezing feeling over his entire body and the world around him blurred for the slightest second before clearing up again. He was now in a small storage room just off the kitchen of Grimmauld. A short walk from the dining room where the meetings took place. Only, he would be coming from within the House, not from without as they expected him to do.

Hermione had told him that they wanted him to arrive later so that they could all already be there and present a united front to him. He was here to disrupt that plan by catching them off guard. He exited the room once Kreacher confirmed that the path to the dining room was clear. He made his way through the kitchen and into the dining room. It was a large room, but not very well-lit and with plenty of nooks and crannies he could hide in. Moody would see him of course, with that magic eye of his, but the others would not.

He settled himself into a dark corner at the back of the room, his outfit of head-to-toe black of slightly varying shades easily allowed him to melt into the shadow there; the small differences in shade confusing the eye into thinking he wasn't some solid black mass standing there. It was a trick Barty had taught him early on in his training.

While he waited, the Order began to trickle in one by one. First was Sirius. He lived there, so of course he would be the first on hand. He sat at the head of the table, on the far end of the room from Harry. He poured himself a glass of wine and sipped it casually, not at all suspecting that he was not alone in the room.

A short while after came Nymphadora, who sat as far from her cousin as she could – which happened to be quite close to where Harry was standing – purposefully not looking at him. Harry could feel the tension in the room like the charge in the air before a thunderstorm.

"You're still not talking to me then?" Sirius asked, looking at Nymphadora imploringly.

Nymphadora didn't answer, which was answer enough.

Sirius sighed and stroked his beard; a nervous tick that Harry had noted over the holidays. He always did this when he was unsure of how to proceed. Harry knew this from watching the man play chess with Remus.

"I don't understand this, Dora," Sirius sighed. "What makes you think we can trust him? He killed Dumbledore. He killed _Jimmy_! His own brother!"

Harry felt rage build up in him. Is that what they were saying to everyone? The papers hadn't reported on the matter of Jimmy's killer, but he knew that the Aurors would have seen the memories of Rowle and known who really killed the boy. But they were telling everyone that it was him? He ground his teeth and fought down the urge to sweep across the room and kill Sirius where he sat. Hermione had said as much, but it didn't really sink in until now.

Tonks' head snapped up and pegged Sirius with a withering glare. "Bullshit," she snapped. "Dumbledore, I accept, but Jimmy? No. Harry would never do something like that. I saw them at Christmas, Sirius. I'm not blind. Harry cared about Jimmy, and nothing you or James say will convince me otherwise."

Harry felt a warm feeling in his chest as Nymphadora stood up for him and defended his honor. He was beginning to see that Hermione had underplayed the division within the Order.

"I only tell you what I know to be true," Sirius said.

Tonks snorted in a very unladylike manner. "Well, whoever told you that is a bloody lying tosser."

Sirius opened his mouth to respond but the door to the dining room opened again and in walked Moody. His magical eye darted around and landed on Harry. Harry gazed back evenly, daring the man to reveal his presence. The old, grizzled Auror smirked and limped to a chair near the middle of the table on the opposite side of where Tonks sat, muttering "Constant vigilance," under his breath.

None of the three said anything but every so often Moody would look in his direction and get an amused glint in his eye, but that soon faded into distrust; but he made no move. Harry had expected the man to try and attack him and arrest him, but it seemed that the desire to use him as a weapon against Voldemort had won out over that idea. Harry was glad for this. If he had attacked, Harry would have defended himself and he doubted that killing one of their senior members in their own Headquarters would make them more inclined to help him.

Bill and the blonde woman Harry had seen with him in Diagon Alley entered next and took seats next to Tonks. The blonde woman, who must be Bill's wife, Fleur her name was, he thought, struck up a quiet conversation with Nymphadora while Bill listened passively, sipping a glass of water and munching lightly on some nuts that were on the table in a small bowl.

From where Harry was standing, he just see the scars that Bill retained from his run in with Greyback at Hogwarts that night. Harry felt a bit of camaraderie with the man. They both bore the scars of their encounters that would never heal properly or fade. The only difference was that Bill could not hide his as Harry could.

Charlie entered the room not long after and took the seat next to his brother. "Been here long?" he asked Bill.

Bill shook his head. "No. Just got here a few minutes ago."

Charlie nodded. "Don't think it's right," he said. "Trying to intimidate Harry like this by having us all here early."

Bill smirked. "They want to try and scare him with numbers. Isn't going to work. If he could kill Dumbledore, what are we gonna do against him?"

"Do you think he'd kill us?" Charlie asked. His tone said that he had asked this question before.

Bill thought about it. "Yes, I think he would, if we got in his way. You said he didn't hesitate to kill those men in Knockturn Alley. What makes us any different from them? Besides the obvious?"

Charlie shook his head and scratched his beard. "Not much, brother mine, not much."

Harry frowned at this. What did they mean by that? Did Bill and Charlie not consider the Order any different than the Death Eaters? Beyond the obvious reasons that they were fighting for different goals and reasons, he had to concede that they were just soldiers in a war that had nothing to do with them. This war was Voldemort's, and his alone. He had started it and if Harry had any say in it, it would end with him too.

More trickled in. The twins, who sat with their brothers; James and Lily, who sat at the same end as Sirius – Harry glared at the two men for the lies they were spreading about him – but on opposite sides; Remus, who grudgingly sat next to James; Neville, who sat next to Remus; McGonagall, who sat next to Neville; Hagrid, who sat off to the side in a large chair special for him – he looked torn, like he didn't know what he was doing there but afraid to leave; Snape, who sat next to McGonagall...

Ron entered with a taller, skinny, red-haired man, whom Harry suspected must be Percy, and the two sat on the same side as McGonagall. A moment later, Ginny joined them.

By this point, Harry was having difficulty keeping track of the several separate conversations all going on at once.

Next to arrive was Hermione, who took the place nearest the end of the table where Harry would sit, ignoring the dark glower Ron and Ginny leveled at her. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley followed a few moments later.

Mrs. Weasley looked at her children and froze, her eyes narrowing as she looked at her two eldest sons and the twins. "What do you think you all are doing?" she demanded, hands on her hips.

Charlie scratched his chin and shrugged. "Sitting," he said simply, as if it were obvious. Which it was.

Mrs. Weasley's face grew red. "Don't you take that tone with me, Charles," she bit out. "Now get over here and sit with your family. _All of you_." She eyed Bill, Fleur, Fred and George.

"Mum must be really mad if she accidentally called Phlegm 'family'," Ginny whispered to Ron, who nodded knowingly.

Harry grit his teeth, knowing Bill had heard the insult, based on the way his shoulders tensed. Hermione noticed it too and bit her lip in that way that did funny things to Harry's stomach.

"I'm already with my family," Bill all but snarled, openly grasping Fleur's hand on the tabletop.

Mrs. Weasley glared. "William," she said warningly.

Bill shook his head, his long hair swaying loosely around his shoulders. "No. I've had just about enough of the way you and _them_ ," he shot a glare at Ron and Ginny, "treat my wife. I won't stand for it. If I hear one more word about her from any of you, I will hurt you. I don't care who it is, even you _mother_."

Mrs. Weasley looked taken aback by her son's threat and then looked ready to explode. She was interrupted by a loud _caw_ and Rune flew into the room, settling on the top of the chair that Harry would take. Everyone looked at the raven with apprehension, then to the door, where two hooded figures stood in the doorway. The taller one closed the door behind them and clicked the lock into place.

Harry used this moment of distraction to slip out of his corner and into the chair at the head of the table. No one noticed him except Moody, who he was certain was looking at him with his magical eye.

Rune cawed again and everyone turned back to the chair, startled to find Harry's hooded, masked figure sitting there comfortably.

Behind his mask Harry smirked at the wide-eyed reactions he was getting. Hermione stealthily rolled her eyes at his love for dramatics. It was something Barty would have done too if he were here.

Silence reigned over the room, and was not broken until Rune started making a noise that sounded suspiciously like laughter. Luna and Xeno moved to sit in a couple of empty chairs between Lily and Charlie.

Neville was looking at him with thinly veiled anger, and Harry noted that Remus had a restraining hand on his arm.

"It is good of you all to come," Harry said, tilting his head deliberately at the side of the table where his seeming supporters were seated. As it stood, the room was divided in two. On one side there was Sirius, James, Remus, Neville, Minerva, Severus, Percy, Ron, Ginny, Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley and Moody; on the other was Hermione, Nymphadora, Fleur, Bill, Charlie, Lily, Luna and Xenophilius; Hagrid was off to the side, and Harry still did not know where he stood.

All in all, there were twenty-two of them in the room, counting Harry. Twelve against him, three with him, five willing to hear him out and one who was undecided.

"Potter," Snape sneered, "I see your flare for theatrics hasn't diminished with your fall from grace." Harry could hear a hint of betrayal in there, and was curious as to which side this sentiment was spawned from. He had fallen from grace on both sides of this war after all. And since Severus had spied for both sides in equal measure he had the capacity to feel betrayed from either stance.

Harry snorted. "Well, that didn't take very long. Well done, Severus. I see your years of spying have not given you the gift of good judgment or forethought. Unless your intention was to reveal my true identity." He sighed and reached up to remove his mask, setting it on the table in front of him. He noted Neville's eyes widen, then bore into him with pure hate. "I knew one of you would let that slip to poor Longbottom there."

Luna and Xeno flipped back their own hoods; now that Harry was unmasked, they saw no reason to hide their own identities anymore.

Everyone looked at Neville, who was openly glaring at Harry. Harry just smirked back at the boy, silently daring him to try something.

"I hope one of you is prepared to explain to Neville why no one revealed the identity of his parents' killer to him." He grinned in a feral way. "You all knew of course. After the letter I sent was decoded by Hermione here, how could you not know? So, tell us, why did you keep it a secret from him who deserved to know the most?"

No one spoke, though some fidgeted nervously. This was not going the way they had planned.

"I told you we should have said something before the meeting," Hermione said, sounding vindicated.

Severus sneered again. "Telling him would have served no purpose," he said condescendingly. "We already told you this, stupid girl."

Harry slammed his fist down on the table, causing everyone to jump as he leveled a steely glare at Severus. "You best watch your tongue, spy, or I'll cut it out." Rune clicked his beak as if to emphasize this point.

Snape glowered back, but Harry noticed a small spark of fear and Harry became aware that he had struck the table with his left, metal arm, splintering it. He made no outward reaction to this, keeping his eyes trained on Snape.

"I happen to agree with Severus," James said. "There was no purpose to telling him and stirring up hostility."

"And the coward speaks," Harry mocked. "Do not think I have forgotten you, father, or how you left me to die when I was but a mere baby. You ran away and left your only son defenseless with the Dark Lord. And do not get me started on the lies you have been telling about me of late."

James eyes flashed. "I have told no lies!"

Harry's eyes narrowed. "Really? Then how do you explain you and Sirius telling everyone that I killed Jimmy?"

A hush fell over the room.

"YOU DID WHAT?!" Lily shouted, glaring at the two men in question, jumping to her feet. Hermione added her own glare to the equation for good measure.

James and Sirius sputtered, trying in vain to defend themselves.

"Don't even try to deny it," Nymphadora joined in. "You were just saying it to me before the meeting began."

"How did Harry know that?" Fleur asked, thinking about it. "Apparently they didn't tell Lily, or me. Who told him about it?"

Moody snorted. "He was in the room when you were arguing about it," he told them. "Probably was in here before anyone else. I suspect Granger told him about our plan to all get here before him." He looked at Hermione, who didn't look the least bit contrite.

"Whose side are you on?" James snapped at Hermione, who frowned at him.

"The right one," she answered back. "I'm grateful for all that you and Lily have done for me, but Harry is right. You are a coward."

James made to stand up, but just as he gained his feet, Harry shoved him back into his chair with a forceful wave of his hand.

"Try that again and I will not hesitate to kill you, father," he snarled. "It would be probably the second greatest pleasure of my life."

Unable to stop themselves, the Weasley twins asked, "What was the first greatest?"

Harry graced them with an almost arrogant smirk. "Shagging Hermione."

Hermione blushed bright red and her mouth gaped, opening and closing like a fish.

The twins saw this and howled with laughter, Nymphadora joining them after a moment of raising her eyebrows at Hermione, who refused to meet her eyes. Harry reached over and grasped her hand gently, squeezing it comfortingly to take the sting away from his blatant airing of their private affairs. She glared at him, but her lips twitched upward at the corners almost imperceivably.

Mrs. Weasley looked horrified and affronted. "So, this is what you did when we let you deliver a message? Spread your legs to him like a common whore? It's bad enough that my eldest had to go and marry that Veela harlot but-"

Harry and Bill reacted in unison and within a moment Mrs. Weasley was laying on the floor, blasted back off her chair by the spell of Bill's, Harry's Killing Curse sailing harmlessly over her fallen form just a second too late.

The Weasleys all moved at once; Ginny and Ron drawing their wands on Bill and Harry respectively, the twins jumping back in shock, their eyes darting between their mother and their eldest brother, Charlie leveled his wand at Ginny, who was pointing hers at Bill and Fleur trained hers on Mr. Weasley, who had rushed to his wife's side and was waving his wand to bring her round.

"He tried to kill her!" Ron shouted, his wand pointed at Harry. "You all saw it! He tried to kill my mother!"

Harry sneered. "And I would have too, had your brother not fired first. No one insults Hermione like that and lives." He felt Hermione move to his side and grasp his flesh arm.

"Calm down, Harry," she whispered to him soothingly. "She isn't worth the effort. She's just a stupid woman with a control complex."

Harry gritted his teeth. "No one insults you and lives," he repeated.

"Your desire to defend my honor is appreciated, my love, but now is not the time for bloodshed." She rubbed his shoulder comfortingly. Fleur was doing something similar with Bill, but she had not lowered her own wand yet either.

Harry finally nodded and lowered himself back into his chair, reining in his wrath. "One more word from her and she dies," he ground out, leveling them all with a deadly serious stare. Hermione returned to her own chair.

Mrs. Weasley had been brought back to consciousness and heard his words. She must have sense that he was more than willing to back up his words with action and wisely kept her mouth closed. She sat back down, glared openly at him and her sons on the other side of the table. Mr. Weasley took a moment convincing them all to lower their wands and eventually they were all back in their seats, but the wands were on the table, within easy reach; the poor man looked so lost as to what to do about his splintering family. Harry almost felt sympathy for him. Almost.

"Now that that's out of the way, can we get this meeting back on track?" Moody growled. There was a general murmur of agreement from around the table and Moody hummed approval. "Well then, to our first order of of business. As you all now know," he looked at Neville here, who shied away from the gnarled old Auror's gaze, "Mr. Potter here has requested this meeting to discuss the possibility of our joining forces to defeat Voldemort. Much discussion has already taken place over the past couple of weeks and we have yet to reach a decision."

He stood from his chair and limped around the table as he continued to speak, the steady thump of his metal boot echoing through the room.

"Calling for a vote at this point would be pointless as any vote has to be unanimous. Thus far, it has not been." He looked at the side of the table where Bill, Charlie and the twins were seated with Hermione, Fleur and Nymphadora. He also eyed Luna and Xenophilius, who both met his gaze without much reaction; Luna smiling serenely as usual.

"Perhaps Potter should give us a reason why we should even trust him," Snape said, looking witheringly at Harry.

James and Sirius sighed. "I can't believe I'm saying this again, but I agree with Severus," James said.

Sirius nodded. "Yes. Harry," he looked directly at the man directly across from him, "Tell us one reason we should trust a single thing you say."

Harry leveled him with a blank stare. "I can give you twenty-one reasons. And they are all sitting here in this room."

"What is that supposed to mean, Harry?" Minerva asked, speaking for the first time so far.

Harry turned to her. "It's quite simple, Minerva, if you don't trust me, everyone in this room will die."

"Is that a threat?" Moody growled.

Harry shook his head. "Not at all. It is merely a fact." He stood up and began to pace, much as Moody had done. "Since this war began some twenty-eight years ago, you have had perhaps a handful of significant victories. You have lost countless members – I should know, I killed at least fourteen of them myself – including your founder and leader, Albus Dumbledore."

"And who do we have to thank for that?" Snape snaped.

Harry smiled at him as if he were a child. "Did I not just say that I did it? If you cannot be civil or intelligent, Severus, I will have to ask you to leave. Actually, as a matter of fact, you will leave. Now."

"You do not command me, Potter," Severus protested, standing.

"No," Harry agreed. "Voldemort does." Gasps were heard all around; whether it was from Harry's use of the Dark Lord's name or because of his accusation, he wasn't sure.

"Severus has been a loyal member of our Order for over a decade," Minerva said. "He has given us valuable information about You-Know-Who's movements."

Harry snorted. "Please, if he had done that, this war would have been going a very different way. Tell me, has he ever told you where Voldemort's base of operations is? Where he lives? Where he sleeps? No? Well, he knows all of this. I saw him many times at our home. Always telling us where you were and your schedules. How do you think I was able to attack Longbottom's parents in Diagon Alley? He told us you'd be there. He knows so much about the Death Eaters, their names and locations. And so do I. I will tell you."

He paused in front of Snape. All eyes were on the two, breath bated and eyes unblinking.

"What are you doing, Potter?" Snape sneered.

Harry shook his head slightly, appearing thoughtful. "It occurs to me that I was about to make a serious mistake. How foolish of me." He met Snape's eyes. "It would seem that your time has run its course, Severus."

"Harry," Sirius said seriously. A warning.

Harry shook his head again. "I cannot allow you to leave here, Severus; you will just tell my dear old _father_ where I am and that I am going to reveal his secrets. I cannot allow this. Nor can I allow you to stay. I'm afraid it has come time for you to die, Severus."

He snapped out with his metal arm, catching Snape around his wand arm, which had been stealthily moving toward his wand. He squeezed and twisted, breaking it. Snape screamed and dropped to his knees. Instantly, everyone in the room was on their feet again and wands were pointed in various directions.

Luna had hers on Moody; Xeno had his on Arthur; Hermione had hers on James; The twins had theirs on Ron and Ginny; Nymphadora had hers on Sirius; Charlie had his on Minerva; Lily had hers on Remus; Bill had his on Mrs. Weasley; Fleur had hers on Neville; And Hagrid was pointing a large pink umbrella at Percy. Moody, James, Sirius, Remus, Neville, Percy, Ron, Ginny, Arthur, Molly and Minerva all had theirs on Harry, but he paid them no mind.

"Let him go, Harry," James bit out.

"He will betray us all," Harry said quietly, but somehow everyone heard him. "Tell them, Severus. Tell them where your loyalties truly lie. Tell them how you sold out member after member to us so I could kill them. Tell them that you do all of this because you hate my father for stealing my mother, the woman you loved, away from you." He sneered. "You're shields are weak, Severus, you cannot keep me out. I can see it all."

Realization dawned on a few faces as they realized that Harry was using Legilimency on Snape.

"TELL THEM!"

Snape glared through his pain at Harry and spat at his feet.

"Is it true?" a small voice asked.

Harry and Snape both looked to Lily who was looking at Snape pityingly.

"Is it true?" she asked again.

Snape muttered something under his breath that no one but Harry was able to hear. Harry squeezed again, sending fresh pain through Snape. "Louder!"

Snape groaned and finally said, "Yes. It's all true."

More gasps and whispers. Some wands lowered from Harry; James, Sirius and Moody, as well as Minerva. None of Harry's 'supporters' lowered theirs though, save for Lily who was in shock.

Harry smirked. "Good." He touched a finger to Snape's forehead and whispered, " _Avada Kedavra_ ," and Snape fell dead at his feet. Stunned silence filled the room as everyone looked at the lifeless form laying there. Harry looked at his metal arm. He hated this thing. It took all the fun out of the fight. "Kreacher," he called out.

With a small _pop_ the old House Elf appeared in the room, bowing low to Harry. "Master has called for Kreacher. What can Kreacher do for Master?"

Harry gestured down at the corpse. "Take this and drop it in the street at Diagon Alley. I want him easily found."

Kreacher nodded and took hold of Snape's body. "Yes, Master." Another _pop_ and he was gone.

"Dobby," he called this time. When the Elf appeared, he requested some tea for him and his side of the table, telling the little Elf to put a mild calming draught in Lily's; the woman was still in shock at both the revelation that Snape had hated her husband, had loved her, and had betrayed them all. With a bow, the Elf was gone too. A moment later, tea appeared in front Hermione, Bill, Charlie, Fleur, Nymphadora, Luna, Xeno, Lily and Hagrid. Dobby handed Harry his himself. "Here is being your tea, Mister Harry Potter Sir, just how you like it."

Harry took the cup and saucer from Dobby and smiled at him. "Thank you, Dobby. You may go now."

He moved back to his chair and sat down, sipping his tea. It was perfect.

Sirius, he noted, was looking at him with amazement. "How did you do that?"

Harry quirked a brow. "What?"

"Kreacher," he said, as if it explained everything. Which it sort of did.

"Ah, that," Harry hummed. "Yes. Well, you see, he's my Elf, and he does what I ask of him."

Nymphadora frowned. "If he was your elf, that would mean that you would have to be Head of House Black."

Harry nodded and lifted up his right hand, pulled off the glove and looked at the signet ring sitting there. "I am."

"How is that possible?" Nymphadora asked.

"It's simple, Nymphadora," Harry told her, ignoring the sharp look she shot him. "Before I killed old Walburga Black, she named me Lord Black. It was witnessed by Narcissa, Bellatrix and Regulus. And no, Sirius, I won't be reinstating you. I will not undo Lord Orion's final act as Head of House before his death. Your mother may have blasted you off the tapestry upstairs but your father had final say in putting it to parchment with the Goblins."

"So, this is your house?" Charlie asked, looking around them.

Harry nodded. "Yes, it is. The thing is, I knew where you all were all along. I could have come in here at any time, despite the Fidelius Charm you placed on the house. Voldemort didn't know that though. I still don't quite know why I never told him. Maybe I just preferred to hunt you all down out in the open, I don't know." He shrugged. "Anyway, trust me yet?"

Hermione, Luna and Xeno all nodded without hesitation. He graced them with a smile, but quickly looked at everyone else. Nymphadora was the first to nod as well, followed a moment later by Bill and Charlie, then Fleur. The twins nodded slowly too. Finally, everyone else did too, though somewhat grudgingly, particularly on Neville's part.

"Good," Harry grinned. He looked at Moody. "Does that count as unanimous?"

Moody growled but nodded. "Second order of business. The Prophesy."

Harry raised a hand, cutting off any further talk. "What prophesy?" he asked.

Minerva sighed. "In the Ministry, there is a place called the Department of Mysteries-"

Harry cut her off. "Yes, yes, I know all of this. You know that several Death Eaters work for the Ministry, right? Malfoy, Yaxley, Rookwood...etc. As a matter of fact, Rookwood works _in_ the Department of Mysteries. So, what exactly is this Prophesy?"

Moody took over explaining as McGonagall looked more than a little miffed. "We aren't sure. From what Severus told us it has to do with you and Voldemort. The Dark Lord wants to get his own hands on it, so we were planning to go in and have a look at it before he does but we haven't been able to get an agent inside the Department of Mysteries."

Harry nodded. "Rookwood would probably have something to do with that, I imagine. Let me guess, there's always someone on guard down there?"

Moody nodded. "Yes. But we know that it is not Rookwood."

"There are several Death Eaters who are not part of Voldemort's inner circle, several dozen Ministry employees, and who knows how many others. It could be any number of them down there." Harry scratched his chin in thought, feeling the stubble that had grown in the few days that he had neglected to shave. "Have you tried killing or at least incapacitating the guard?"

Moody smirked in a gruesome way. "We aren't in the habit of attacking potential innocents."

Harry shrugged. "I guess its a good thing I came along then. I have no qualms about killing someone, especially if they are my enemy. I'll lead a team down to the Department of Mysteries and get this Prophesy for you. If it really is about me, I'll have to do it anyway, as only those whom they are about can lift them from their resting place. None of you would be able to touch it while it is there."

"Severus also told us that Voldemort had been planning to go into the Ministry and kill Rowle and Draco Malfoy. We gained a lot of information from them, but there are some parts of their minds that we cannot access. It seems the Dark Mark prevents some things."

Harry nodded and rubbed his metal arm, which was still hidden with both sleeve and glove. "That's why I cut mine off. No doubt Voldemort will want them dead, and I'm sure you aren't stupid enough to still be keeping them at the Ministry holding cells." Silence met his statement. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Oh gods, you are. At least tell me you have a competent and verified guard on them." More silence. "How are you all not dead already?" he scowled and sighed. "Whatever. So, who's going to go to the Ministry with me?"

Hermione and Luna instantly raised their hands, followed a moment later by Xeno and Nymphadora. "You need at least one Auror with you," Nymphadora said by way of explanation.

Bill and Charlie volunteered too.

"That should be more than enough for this," Harry said. "We don't want too large a group. More risk of something going wrong."

"Now listen here, Potter," Moody growled. "We aren't sending you all down there without a senior Order member to escort and keep and eye on you."

"I'll go with them," Sirius said, looking around to see if anyone objected. No one did. "I'm the best duelist here. I _am_ ," he asserted as James made to protest this claim.

Harry snorted and shook his head. It was amusing to watch them act like they were more qualified than he was. "If you must, then I will allow it."

" _Allow_?" Sirius frowned. "Since when do you get to allow anything? Who died and made you our leader?"

"Albus Dumbledore," Harry said simply. "I killed him, therefore I have most claim to his position. You are all welcome to challenge me for that right, but I promise you that you will die. On top of that, this is my house. I could easily have you all removed if I so wished. And mark me, I am considering it even now. I do not need _all_ of you." No one said anything to refute this. "Good, now the rest of you, I want you all on shifts keeping an eye on Rowle and Draco, and also Malfoy Manor. I want to know all comings and goings from there. Are there any other topics we must discuss this meeting, Moody?"

Moody shook his head.

"Meeting adjourned," Harry smiled, pounding a fist on the table.

Everyone got up and were either filing out of the room or lingering to speak with someone else. Harry noticed Hermione and Lily speaking quietly to each other while James, Sirius and Remus left the room. Too late, he noticed Neville coming up behind Hermione. He grabbed her and put his wand to her head. Lily screamed, bringing everyone running back into the room. Harry had the Elder Wand out and pointed at Neville.

"Longbottom, what the hell are you doing?" Moody barked.

Neville had tears in his eyes. "He killed my parents!" he cried. "He killed them right in front of me. He deserves to be hurt. So I'm going to hurt him. He took everything from me, so I'll do the same. I want him to feel what I've felt! I've been watching them the whole night. She's important to him. So I'll kill her and he'll have lost everything, just like me!"

Harry glared at the boy. "Release her, boy, and I may just be merciful."

Neville laughed humorlessly. "What you mean is that you'll just kill me rather than torture me then kill me, right?"

Harry cocked his head but said nothing. That basically was what he meant.

"Let her go, Neville!" Ron shouted.

Neville turned to shout back and Harry saw his opportunity. He fired a cutting curse at Neville, hitting him in the face. He screamed and let go of Hermione to hold his bleeding face. Hermione elbowed him hard in the mouth before moving out of striking distance. The blow knocked him onto his back.

Harry moved to her and pulled her behind him, his wand still leveled at Neville. "Now, you'll suffer. _Crucio_!"

Neville thrashed about, screaming as unbearable pain wracked his body, tearing through his very veins with the feeling of being on fire. He held the curse for what felt like forever, and he did not plan on letting up until Neville died. Finally, the boy stopped thrashing about, his face, neck and chest coated in blood and his eyes staring unblinkingly.

Harry knelt next to him, seeing his chest still gently rising and falling. He touched his wand to Neville's throat and focused all of his power into the next spell. " _Diffendo_ ," he uttered and the cutting curse sliced through the flesh, organ and bone, severing Neville's head from his body.

Harry stood up again, Neville's head held in his hand by the hair. He turned and tossed the head at the feet of the Order members. It rolled and came to a stop by James' boot.

"Kreacher!" Harry called softly. When the Elf arrived he instructed him to mount Neville's head on a spike above the mantle with a preservation charm on it. "If any of you ever so much as think about hurting Hermione or any of my friends, your head will join his."

He walked past them and out into the hall, Hermione right on his heels. Together they climbed the stairs up to where Harry knew the master bedroom to be. He took Hermione's hand and pulled her inside. Hearing Luna and Xeno take up guard outside as he closed the door and locked it, casting several silent privacy charms on the room.

He immediately pulled Hermione to him, checking her over for cuts, bruises or any other sort of harm. "Are you all right?" he asked.

Hermione nodded, reaching up to touch his cheek. "I'm fine, Harry." Harry closed his eyes at her touch, just enjoying the feeling. "I should have seen him coming."

Harry shook his head. "Even I didn't see it until it was too late. I don't think I've ever been in such a difficult situation before. To strike or not to strike. Honestly, I didn't have a clear shot until Ron distracted him."

"You didn't have to kill him, Harry," Hermione said, but her words lacked conviction.

Harry smiled. "I was stuck between the devil and the deep blue sea, Hermione, and when one is stuck betwixt the devil and deep sea, the devil always wins, no matter what. This would have ended in death no matter what, and I would rather that death be his than yours. And I will always choose you."

Hermione smiled and leaned up, pressing her lips against his. He returned her kiss with fervor. They broke apart when the need for air became too much.

"I want you," Harry hissed, peppering her throat and neck with kisses.

Hermione moaned low in her throat and gasped. "Then what are you waiting for?"

With a wolfish grin, Harry picked her up and carried her to the bed. There was no way he was letting her go. Not tonight, nor ever.

 **XXXX**

 **A/N: Another chapter down. Wow, two character deaths in this chapter. That was not planned. Well, both deaths were planned, just not so close together. Oh well, I think Harry's made quite an impression on the Order. And don't worry, there will be some fallout from all of this in the next chapter, as well as the Battle of the Ministry of Magic. I've already been writing and its close to 15,000 words already and not even finished yet. It'll probably be around 20,000 words by the time I'm finished with it. Stay tuned and please feel free to leave me some feedback!**


	28. His Brother's Keeper

**XXVIII. His Brother's Keeper**

Harry awoke with a scream, bolting upright in the bed. His breathing was heavy and his hair was plastered to his forehead and cheeks with sweat. He struggled to remember what he had been dreaming about. There had been screaming, lots of screaming. Somehow, he knew it was his own, though it was not his voice as he knew it. It was younger, weaker.

It was not the first time he had had such a dream, he'd been having it a lot lately, but he could never remember anything beyond the memory of a child screaming.

He heard a shuffling of the covers as someone next to him shifted and sat up. His memory quickly told him that it was Hermione and the silhouette of her thick, bushy hair confirmed this when he looked over at her.

He had almost forgotten where he was.

She leaned into him, her arms going around him, her lips leaving a trail of light kisses along his shoulder. "Are you all right?" she asked with concern.

Harry nodded. "Yeah," he breathed. "Just a nightmare."

Hermione hummed and tightened her hold on him. "You want to talk about it?"

Harry chuckled humorlessly. "Not really a whole lot to talk about," he said. "I can't remember any of it. I never can."

"So, you've had this dream before?" Hermione asked.

He nodded again. "Yeah. Several times over the years; at least I think so. I can't remember."

"Well, I'm always here for you, if you need me." Hermione kissed his shoulder again and tugged him back down to the mattress. "Come on. We should try and get a bit more sleep. It will be morning soon enough. Some things are best left to be faced in the light."

Harry smirked but allowed himself to be pulled back down. He disagreed. Such things were always best faced in the dark; at least for him. "I suppose," he murmured, letting her have this one.

Hermione snuggled into his side, his arm going around her as she rested her head on his chest and she tangled her legs around his. "I forget sometimes that you aren't as keen on the light as I am."

Harry smiled. "The dark reveals who you really are when no one can see you." He thought of that day when he had encountered that Boggart in the cave in the Forbidden Forest. "I've seen some things in the dark that would haunt even the hardest of men. Things even I did not wish to see."

Hermione hummed sleepily. "Mmm...I suspect so..."

Harry smiled down at her and his hand that was resting on the back of her shoulder rubbed her soft, bare skin gently. He could hear her slow, even breathing and knew that she had drifted back into sleep. It was just as well, Harry considered. He didn't think now was the time for such discussions after all.

He closed his eyes and allowed the warmth of Hermione's soft, supple body to comfort him and her slow, deep breathing to lull him into a sense of peace. Soon, he was asleep again as well.

 **XXXX**

Morning arrived sooner than either of them expected and it took them at least an hour to get out of bed once the sun was shining through the window. It wasn't from a habit of or a desire to have a lie in, as neither of them were known to be late risers; no it was because Harry had taken one look at Hermione laid out beside in naught but the perfect, milky skin she was born in and his desire had come back full force, and Hermione was more than willing to reciprocate said desire.

So, around nine they were both finally up, showered and dressed and making their way down the stairs to the kitchen. Xeno and Luna met them at the base of the stairs, divested of their dark cloaks and instead wearing a simple set of orange robes and a delicate-looking white sundress respectively. He was unsure if they had brought them with them, or if they had retired to their own home last night, but it didn't really matter.

"Good morning, Harry," Luna smiled, "Good morning, Hermione."

Harry and Hermione smiled back and returned the greeting in kind.

"So, what is on the agenda for today, Harry?" Xenophilius asked as they all entered the dining room to find their breakfast waiting for them, a rather hostile looking Kreacher standing guard over it, fending off a disgruntled Sirius with a broom.

"What seems to be the problem here?" Harry asked, keeping the amusement off his face with some difficulty.

Sirius glared at him. "Your damned elf won't let me have my breakfast."

Kreacher sneered at Sirius. "This is being the Master's and Mistress's breakfasts. Not the blood-traitor's."

Sirius growled and made for his wand. "You little-"

Harry reached out and grabbed Sirius' wand arm with his metal one, not applying too much pressure, lest he end up shattering the bones; the last thing he needed was to give Sirius yet another reason to dislike him. He may not have liked Sirius, but he didn't want to go around hurting everyone for no real reason. That was something Voldemort would do.

"Easy there, Sirius," Harry admonished. "No need to get violent. I'm sure Kreacher would get you your own breakfast if you asked him nicely. Isn't that right, Kreacher?"

Kreacher scowled. "No, Master."

Harry sighed at the old Elf's stubbornness. "Ah, very well. I can see you are steadfast in this regard. Dobby!" The little Elf appeared and bowed. "Please serve breakfast to those that Kreacher has not, if they wish it. I'll not have my allies going hungry. What sort of host would I be?"

Dobby did as he was asked and soon Sirius had a plate of eggs, bacon and potatoes in front of him, along with a cup of hot tea, which he added a splash of whiskey to from a personal flask he kept inside his jacket. He ate in silence, shooting annoyed looks at Kreacher, who was still standing on the table with the broom in hand, standing guard over the rest of the plates.

Harry and Hermione, as well as Luna and Xeno, all sat down to their own meals, but there were still seven plates sitting there under the Elf's watchful eyes.

The door to the room banged open a few minutes later and a tired looking Nymphadora trudged in and plopped her self into a seat next to the others. Kreacher did not stop her as she pulled one of the plates to her. Dobby popped up a moment later with a cup of tea for her too, which she drank from with a look on her face that was near orgasmic.

"I needed that," she said with great satisfaction. "I spent the whole night on guard at Malfoy Manor, like you said; most boring job ever."

Hermione smirked. "Well, I'm sure Harry didn't suggest it because it was fun."

Nymphadora shuddered and scowled. "Then maybe _he_ should do it."

"I have," Harry informed her after swallowing a bit of egg. "For an entire week straight, with little to no sleep."

Nymphadora eyed him, as if she thought he might be pulling her leg. Finally she said, "You're mental," before taking another sip of her tea.

Harry nodded. "I accept that." He finished the last of his food and wiped his hands and mouth on a napkin. "So, anything of note happen?"

Nymphadora shook her head. "No, not unless you count almost getting caught by a handsome Death Eater as noteworthy."

"I count almost getting caught as noteworthy," Harry corrected. "I could care less if they were handsome or the ugliest sad sack on the face of the earth. So, what happened?"

Nymphadora sighed. "I was positioned just off the path to the gates, as it provided the best view from the ground and I didn't have a broom on hand. I was hidden under one of our invisibility cloaks. I noticed a figure walking out of the gates and start making his way down the path a ways. You wanted to know of all comings and goings so I tried to see who he was. I tripped over a stone and almost fell. He must have heard me because he paused and drew his wand, looking around and listening real close-like. I guess he must have thought it was nothing after a time because he moved on and disapparated."

"Did you see who he was?" Hermione asked before Harry could.

Nymphadora shook her head. "Nah. I mean, I could see his face and such, but I didn't recognize him. I'm surprised he heard me at all. He was muttering to himself. Seemed right shirty he did."

"What did he look like?" Harry pressed. It may be nothing, but he still wanted to know all comings and goings.

"Ah, maybe late twenties, early thirties. Brown hair, neatly combed. A bit of stubble growing in. Dressed to the nines." She looked a bit dreamy as she said all of this. "Nice blazer and waistcoat, dark in color, couldn't really tell. Tall, slender, really intense eyes. Had this weird little tick, if you will, tongue darting out like a snake's every so often."

Harry's expression grew dark. "Barty," he said aloud, not realizing that he had done it.

"Barty?" Nymphadora said, "Is that his name?"

Harry started. "Sorry, didn't realize I had said that out loud."

"Who's Barty?" Hermione asked. She had some idea from what she'd read in his journal, but she wanted to hear it from him.

By this point, Bill, Fleur, Charlie and Lily had joined them at their end of the table, and all had been listening in on the conversation. And they were all looking at him expectantly, though his mother was keeping a bit away from the rest.

He sighed. "Bartemius Crouch Jr.," he said. "Perhaps the most dangerous Death Eater alive, now that Bellatrix is dead. Hell, perhaps even when she was alive he was more dangerous than her."

"As in, Barty Crouch Sr.'s son?" Sirius asked from across the table, having been listening in as well.

Harry nodded. "Yes. The very same."

"You sound as if you knew him well," Lily noted. Hermione nodded her agreement. Both of them could hear some emotion in his voice.

"He taught me everything I know," Harry told them. "He trained me, and oversaw my education...and he was also my best and only friend. We did everything together. We trained, we learned, we fought, we killed, and we would have died for each other." He shook his head sadly, remembering all of the missions they had gone on together, all of the times they had just sat and talked for hours on end. "But that is the past. He's our enemy now."

"Was he at Hogwarts that night?" Sirius asked, his Auror side coming out a bit.

Harry nodded. "He was. He cast the Dark Mark over the school. But he wasn't in the Astronomy Tower. I don't know where he was during that time, but he wasn't with the others. I didn't see him until after I killed Bellatrix. He had me dead to rights, but he let me go. I guess our history was enough for him to give me a fighting chance. I don't know." He shrugged and looked at Nymphadora. "Could you catch any of what he was saying? Barty had a habit of ranting under his breath when annoyed. Could reveal something."

She shook her head. "No. All I caught were obscenities and curses. A man after me own heart that one."

Hermione shook her head, stifling a giggle behind her hands as Tonks started looking all dreamy again.

Harry ignored the antics of the older woman. "Who's on guard there this morning?" he asked looking around at them all.

"Kingsley," Nymphadora said. "Oh, that's right. He wasn't here last night. Kingsley Shacklebolt. I think you saw him at the Christmas party at the Ministry. Tall African bloke," she said, gesturing his height with her hands. "Likes to wear traditional African robes and that little hat."

Harry nodded, vaguely remembering someone of that description at the Ministry party. "He is aware of all that has transpired here?"

Nymphadora nodded. "Yes. Moody told him the basics and I filled in the rest when he arrived to relieve me of my post."

"I'll expect his report to be given either to myself, Hermione, Xenophilius or Luna as soon as his watch ends," Harry said. "Whichever of us is available. Beyond that, I need to meet with everyone who works at the Ministry, or visits it regularly enough to know it's workings."

"I can gather them for you," Charlie said. "I sometimes visit the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, particularly the Beast Division; as a dragon handler we coordinate quite a bit. My father and brother both work there, in the Department for Magical Law Enforcement, the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office to be precise, and the Department for International Magical Cooperation, respectively.

Harry nodded. "Yes, your brother Percy works under Bartemius Crouch doesn't he? I remember his mentioning it at dinner over the holidays."

"Not anymore, actually. Bartemius has been recalled to the DMLE, as Head of Department in the wake of Madam Bones' death," Nymphadora reported. "It was kept real quiet and the Prophet never reported on it. He did offer Percy a position as his aide, but he turned him down in lieu of taking a similar offer from the Minister himself."

"Over-achiever, that one," Bill muttered.

"Now, now, William, you cannot fault your brother for having ambition," Fleur said in her melodious voice.

Bill snorted. "Yes I can. It would be different if he was actually qualified for those positions, but he only gets there by being a kiss-arse."

Harry interrupted. "Either way, bring him in anyway. All of them. Aurors, Department Heads, aides, all of them. I'll need as much insider knowledge as I can get for what I have planned."

"And what is that, Harry?" Xenophilius asked.

"This Prophecy that was mentioned last night has me intrigued. I think we should definitely get in there and have a look for ourselves, sooner rather than later." He sipped his tea. "If Voldemort wants to get his hands on it, we need to get to it first and make sure he never even lays _eyes_ on it."

"Tonight then," Hermione said. "You plan to do this tonight."

Harry nodded. "Yes I do. I see no point in waiting. Voldemort has too many people inside the Ministry and if he wanted, he could waltz in there at any time and just take the thing. I honestly have no idea why he hasn't yet." He paused. "Unless he wants me to take it..." He looked up at Lily and then to Sirius. "Is it possible that Voldemort already knows the Prophecy?"

Sirius mulled it over silently. "I suppose that it is _possible_ , given his resources. But without knowing what the Prophecy is, it would be difficult to say."

Harry sighed. "All right. Well, the plan still stands then. We'll go in and get the Prophecy. If we are lucky, it will be as simple as that." He stood up. "Have all those I asked for meet me here this evening. All of you as well," he said, gesturing to Hermione and the others. "If I'm going into potentially hostile territory, I want someone I can trust at my side."

 **XXXX**

Harry looked out over the expanse of muggle London. He was standing atop the roof of Grimmauld, having climbed up there through a window in the attic. The sun was beginning to dip toward the horizon, painting everything in a rich orange light that reflected off the rooftops and windows and the Thames, giving the illusion of the city on fire...not something unheard of, given that it was _London_.

It would be time to go back in soon. The meeting to discuss their break-in at the Ministry tonight would begin soon.

He worried that he might be rushing this, but something about the whole thing didn't sit right with him. If only he and Voldemort could touch this thing, why hadn't Voldemort gone after it already? He had ample opportunity; with as many followers as he had in the Ministry, including the Department of Mysteries, he could easily get in and out without raising any alarms.

He again let the possibility of it being a set-up cross his mind. It would not be outside of Voldemort's abilities to set a trap, but it was somewhat outside his nature when it came to strategic thinking. Voldemort was more of a strike hard and fast sort. Barty could have something to do with it. He was cunning in every way that Voldemort was not and would be more likely to think of something like this. He also knew beyond doubt that Harry was still alive, despite Voldemort's seeming belief that he was dead. Now, putting out word that Harry was dead in an attempt to draw him out of hiding, if only to refute the fact, that was definitely something Voldemort would do; it played on his belief that Harry's pride would prevent him from staying quiet whilst false news was spread about him. Perhaps Barty had told Voldemort about Harry still being alive – why wouldn't he? – and they had told Snape of the Prophecy so he could slip the information to the Order, once he told them that Harry had been in contact with the Order, and they would use this to draw him into 'neutral' territory and into the open, where he could be easily ambushed.

Was there even a Prophecy? Was it all a ruse? He supposed the only way to find out was to go in and find out for himself. He wouldn't be alone, though, not in the least. He had a history of doing things alone or with as little help as possible. Barty and Voldemort both knew this and they would not be expecting Harry to bring half the Order or more with him.

It was the only plan he had, and it would have to do.

He honestly wasn't sure why he was worried about a Prophecy at all. He had never put a whole lot of stock in the art of Divination. As he and Hermione had discussed that second night at Hogwarts, Arithmancy was much more reliable when it came to predictions, but there were distinct differences in the sort of predictions made.

He may not put a whole lot of stock in things like the reading of tea leaves or crystal ball gazing but he would be a fool to challenge the legitimacy of a true Prophecy; and the Department of Mysteries would not keep a Prophecy on hand if it were not a true Prophecy. It wasn't like they had a choice in the matter, really, as once a true Prophecy was made, no matter where at or by whom, it would appear in the form of an orb, almost like a crystal ball, in the Department of Mysteries and could not be touched except by those whom it concerned, and the Keeper of the Hall of Prophecies, though how that was possible was a matter of much speculation and debate but little to no real knowledge or evidence. Magic, that was the simple answer and it both explained everything and nothing at all, all at once.

Harry had only discovered this a couple of hours before in a book of Hermione's that talked about the things; a remnant from her short-lived time taking the subject of Divination. Well, rediscovered. He had read such things before in his lessons with Barty but that was so long ago now.

A sound of fluttering wings was heard and Harry noticed Rune fly up from out of one of the windows and flap off into the distance to hunt some food before the sun set completely. Harry didn't worry about the raven, having seen how he could ambush an owl twice his size and incapacitate it. If any nocturnal creature thought it could take down his familiar, they would be sorely mistaken and likely end up his meal instead.

The thought brought an amused smile to his lips.

He looked out over London again, knowing that somewhere out there was the Ministry, and his target for the night; for once not a living being - well, for the second time actually. The Cup was the first; but since it had had a soul fragment in it, did that make it a living being or still an inanimate object?

"Harry?"

Harry started at the sudden voice calling his name. Harry carefully edged his way to the edge of the roof and looked down to the open window that Rune had flown out of, surmising it must be the master bedroom.

"I'm out here," he called down.

A moment later, a head of bushy brown hair poked out of the window and looked down, left, right, then finally up.

Harry smiled down at her. "Hello, love."

Hermione frowned up at him. "How'd you get up there?" she asked.

Harry shrugged. "There's a window in the attic that I used. There's quite a view up here. You should come up."

Hermione hesitated, looking a bit pale and glancing down the several stories to the ground. Despite the appearance from the outside, Grimmauld was actually about five floors, plus an attic and basement, so they were a good little distance off the ground up here.

Harry smirked. "You aren't afraid of heights are you?"

Hermione scowled. "So what if I am?"

Harry shook his head with a small chuckle. "Well, at least come up to the attic so that I don't have to shout down and you don't have to lean so dangerously far out of window so _high_ off the ground."

Hermione seemed to realize that she was indeed leaning quite far out trying to see Harry and squeaked, darting back into the room.

Harry chuckled again and climbed back over to his previous place, which happened to be right in front of the window he had climbed out of. He leaned back against the sloping roof and relaxed. A moment later Hermione poked her head out of the window, her face appearing above his, her long locks falling around them both like a curtain.

"We really have to talk about this phobia of yours," Harry said softly.

Hermione blushed. "I can't help it, Harry."

Harry smiled. "I know. It wouldn't be a phobia if you could. Come here," he motioned for her to join him on the roof. She hesitated. "You trust me, don't you?" She nodded. "Then come on. I won't let you fall."

He held his hand up for her to take and she took it, clutching it tightly as she clambered through the window to sit next to him. He sat up too.

"It isn't so much height as it is flying," she admitted. "I don't know why, but ever since I was little I've been afraid of high places with nothing to hold onto, then when I had my first flying lesson at Hogwarts, I panicked. There was nothing to hold on to except a thin stick of wood between my legs. I started hyperventilating and my vision went blurry. Luckily Madam Hooch saw me start to faint and assisted me back to the ground."

Harry put a comforting arm around her and pulled her close. She rest her head on his shoulder. "How high up were you?" He asked.

Hermione blushed and mumbled something he couldn't quite catch.

"What?" he asked, blinking.

Hermione took a deep breath. "About ten feet off the ground."

Harry blinked again and began to laugh. He didn't mean to, but he couldn't help himself. He was picturing an eleven year old Hermione on a broom doing breathing exercises to try and stay conscious while barely being a few meters off the ground. "I'm sorry," he said, steadying himself. Hermione was pouting and looking rather embarrassed. "I really am. I'm not making fun of you, I swear. It's just amusing to think that of all the things that the smartest witch of the age isn't good at, it's flying. Isn't the broomstick flying thing something of a staple in the muggle perception of witches?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes. In their eyes, I'm an absolute failure as a witch." Her voice was joking.

Harry nodded. "Well, you could always just turn them into a newt."

Hermione giggled. "A newt?" She gave him a 'really?' look.

Harry waved her off. "They'll get better."

Hermione lost it here. "Oh, Harry," she laughed. "I'm starting to think you know more about muggles than you let on."

Harry frowned. "What do you mean?"

Hermione wiped a tear from her eye. "You just sort of referenced Monty Python and the Holy Grail." At Harry's confused look, she explained. "It's a comedy film from the Monty Python comedy group. It was released in 1975. It's arguably the most well-known of their films and considered a classic example of British humor."

Harry scratched his chin. "I may have seen something about it. Barty taught me Muggle Studies, along with Snape, and we did watch a few of these muggle 'films' as you call them. That may have been one of them. I'm not too sure. Most were educational, about nature and space and such, and muggle history."

Hermione nodded. "Well, I think you may have seen it and unconsciously retained some of it."

Harry shrugged. "Perhaps."

They sat in silence for a long moment after that, just sitting there, leaning against each other, enjoying watching the sunset.

"You should come with me to visit my parents at some point," Hermione said. She pointed off toward a distance cluster of houses near a tall church, just outside the city proper. "They live right over there. I grew up there, lived in the same house my whole life, until now. I used to spend all day out in the garden, reading. Then, when I was seven, my dad built me a tree-house in the backyard and I spent all day in there, reading." She chuckled. "Would you like to see it?"

Harry sighed silently. "I'm not sure that would be a good idea."

Hermione looked up at him. "Why not?" She sounded almost hurt.

He pulled her closer. "It isn't that I don't want to see where you grew up, where your memories were made, and to meet the two people I have to thank for bringing you into this world, but I was raised to hate muggles, Hermione. And I can't promise that that will ever change."

Hermione closed her eyes. "You don't hate me, do you?"

Harry shook his head. "No."

"Why not?" she asked, not opening her eyes.

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. I wanted to, when I met you. But you proved that you were not only stronger and smarter than most Purebloods twice your age, and all of them of the same age. Not to mention, more beautiful." He looked out over muggle London. "Now, I don't hate them so much that I want to kill them, but it is difficult to shake such things when they have been drilled into your heart and mind for as long as you can remember."

Hermione nodded. "I understand."

Harry doubted this, but accepted it. "I am sorry, Hermione." He was. He felt like he had disappointed her simply by being what he was raised to be.

Hermione looked up at him, their eyes meeting. "I know."

"So, was there a specific reason you were looking for me?" Harry asked, hoping to change the subject.

Hermione nodded, seeming grateful for the change as much as he. "Yeah. The others will be arriving soon and Sirius had us all helping in the cleaning up of the house. You know how he was trying to make it more habitable before." Harry nodded. "Well, I found a boggart in the closet of our room and was wondering if you'd help me get rid of it. I haven't faced a boggart since third year and I didn't fare so well with it. I mean, I got rid of it, but not without being reduced to tears."

Harry frowned. "What was your boggart?"

Hermione blushed again. "Professor McGonagall," she admitted. "She was telling me that I had failed every class and that I was no longer allowed to be a witch because I was stupid and pathetic."

Harry frowned. "That must have been quite harrowing," he said, managing to keep from smiling again. "A witch as smart as you, fail? Unlikely."

Hermione smiled at him and kissed him on the cheek. "So, you wanna help me or not?"

Harry shrugged. "I guess so. I don't know if I'll be any good though. Last time I faced a boggart, it nearly killed me."

Hermione's eyes grew wide. "What was it?"

Harry looked at her seriously. "Me."

Hermione's expression became sympathetic. "Oh, Harry," she breathed, wrapping her arms around his neck and burrowing her face into his chest. "I can't imagine what it must be like to be afraid of one's self."

Harry rubbed her back. "Yeah. I don't understand it either," he lied. "Well, that's not exactly true. I understand some of it, or at least have some ideas."

Hermione hummed. "What happened?"

"I'll tell you about it later," he promised. "Right now, I think we should go and see to this one."

He held Hermione's hand while she crawled back through the window and into the attic, then followed her inside.

Hermione led him back to the room she had dubbed 'our room' and pointed to an old closet that had had a wardrobe in front of it. Who knew how long that boggart had been in there. He immediately thought back to the one in the cave and shuddered.

He drew his wand and prepared himself, but Hermione stepped over, her wand drawn too. "I'd like to try first. I'm curious as to what my biggest fear is now."

Harry nodded and stepped aside, wand still out, just in case he needed to step in.

Hermione flicker her wand at the door and it opening with a slow, eerie creak, like the hinges hadn't been greased in ages.

There was an unnatural blackness to the shadow within the closet and a moment later, there was a shifting as a figure righted itself within. Hermione gulped and steeled herself against whatever may come out of there. Harry was far enough back that she would be the sole focus of the boggart.

He could hear breathing from within, then a pale hand shot out and grasped the edge of the door frame and the figure pulled itself out into the light.

Harry heard Hermione gasp and he himself was unsettled. They were looking at an exact replica of Harry.

The Boggart-Harry stared at Hermione with an expression akin to pure loathing. "Filthy mudblood," it sneered and Hermione visibly recoiled. It stalked closer. "You are filth, and you are a fool if you think I could ever love you!" There was so much venom in his words that even Harry was shocked.

Was this what she thought of him? No, he decided. This was what she _feared_. That was the nature of boggarts after all.

"I'll kill you," Boggart-Harry growled. "You, and your disgusting muggle parents. I will make you watch while I butcher them, then I'll choke the life out of you with my bare hands." It raised it's hands as if to emphasize its point.

Hermione shrunk back from it, trembling. She raised her wand. " _Riddikulus!_ " Nothing happened.

Boggart-Harry smirked. "Pathetic, weak, s _tupid_ , girl. I am a god. You are not worthy to even stand in my presence, let alone believe you could ever mean anything to me."

Harry had had enough and stepped forward, placing himself between Hermione and the boggart. The two Harrys stood eye-to-eye, glaring at each other. It stepped to the side, sensing that Hermione was the weaker target, at least at the moment, intending to go around Harry, but he stepped with it, blocking its view of Hermione. It tried it again, in the opposite direction, but Harry again blocked it. It glowered.

"You'll lead them all to their deaths," Boggart-Harry whispered. "All of them. You will kill them. One-by-one they shall all fall and you will be left all alone. And you'll have no one to blame but yourself."

Harry sneered in a manner that would have made Severus jealous and took a step back. "Piss off."

He raised his wand to banish the foul thing but Hermione's voice, wavering and tremulous said, " _Riddikulus,_ " and the Boggart-Harry was suddenly being strangled by his own hair, flailing wildly in an attempt to fight itself off.

Harry laughed boldly, forcing the boggart to retreat and flee from the house.

As soon as it was gone, Harry turned to Hermione and went to her side. "Hermione, are you okay?"

Hermione shook her head. She had tears running down her cheeks.

Harry looked at her sympathetically and opened his arms to her. He would normally have just hugged her but given what she had just been faced with, he didn't think just grabbing her was the best course of action.

She went into his embrace willingly, burying her face in his chest and he wrapped his arms securely around her. "Shh," he crooned. "It all right." he rested his head against hers. "It's all right."

"I'm sorry, Harry," she sobbed. "I...I didn't...I don't..."

"I know," he shushed. "I know. It was just a boggart, Hermione."

"But you...it..." she took a deep, shuddering breath and looked up at him, her chestnut eyes still brimming with tears. "I'm not afraid of you, Harry, I swear. I...I.."

Harry reached up and wiped the tears away with the pad of his thumb. "You fear what I represent," he guessed. "For so long, you only knew me as the Death Eater who had killed so many of your Order. Even if you didn't know it was _me_ then, you do now, and that crosses over. A part of you still sees me as that, despite knowing the real me. And even that isn't so great in that regard. I mean, what could I expect? I just told you that I hate muggles and everything. Of course you would fear for your family."

Hermione shook her head. "Harry, please don't ever think that I could think such a thing of _you_. You've already said that you would not hurt me, and killing my parents would hurt me. So, I know you would never hurt them, because it would hurt me."

Harry sighed and nodded silently.

Hermione leaned up and kissed him softly. "I love you, Harry. That isn't going to change."

Harry nodded, but found himself unable to say anything in return until he choked out, "I love you, too," in an almost unheard voice.

They sat down on the bed, both mulling over the event in their minds. "The boggart didn't change," Hermione noted. "When you looked at it. It didn't change. I guess your fear hasn't changed."

Harry shook his head. "No, it would seem not." He ran a hand through his chin-length hair.

"Tell me about the other boggart," she asked.

Harry sighed and nodded. "All right." He cleared his throat and told her all about the encounter in the cave he had discovered in the Forbidden Forest that day when he had discovered just how much a monster Voldemort really was – which reminded him that the Horcruxes were still locked away in Dumbledore's Office at Hogwarts. He would need to get back into the school and secure those, and destroy them. After that, it was just one to go. He had his galleons bet on it being Nagini, that damned wretched serpent.

When Harry's tale was done, Hermione was hugging his arm. Hearing of his physical battle with and narrow escape from a particularly vicious and powerful boggart had her on edge.

"It must have been a ripper," she said quietly when he was done.

Harry cocked his head. Where had heard that before? "Refresh my memory. What is a ripper? I seem to recall that phrase."

Hermione smirked at knowing something he didn't. "Well, according to the ancient Witchers and Spooks, there were three major classifications of boggarts. These are Rippers, Hall Knockers and Stone Chuckers. The latter two are self-explanatory and are often confused with ghost, ghouls and poltergeists, but the Ripper is known to be especially violent with a taste for blood, human and animal alike. No doubt, had it been able to incapacitate you, it would have drained you slowly until you died."

Harry hummed. "Pleasant creatures, boggarts."

Hermione laughed. "Oh yes, quite the house-guest. There are others too, less known, rarer. There the Hairy Boggart, which is similar to what we face, shape shifters and like to remain out of sight. All boggarts can turn invisible but the Hairy and the Ripper are the two most likely to show themselves. Other than that there's the Bone Crushers and the Whistlers."

"How did you learn all of this?" Harry asked, curious.

"Your books," she answered.

Harry raised a brow. "That may be why it was familiar. Which book?"

Hermione didn't even have to think before answering with the full title and author. " _The Spook's Bestiary_ by John Gregory of Chippenden. He was a Spook from what is now Chipping, Lancashire, in the fourteenth century."

Harry nodded. "Ah, yes. I remember that one now. A lot of interesting stuff in there. Certainly a darker look at magical creatures as compared to _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_."

Hermione agreed. "Scamander certainly takes a much more friendly approach to some creatures, though he does not shy away from giving warnings where they are needed."

 _Knock, knock_!

Harry and Hermione looked to the door and Harry stood up, going over to it. He flipped the lock open and opened the door just enough to be able to see out. "Yes?" he asked the unusually serious Nymphadora who stood there.

"They're all here, Harry," she said.

Harry nodded. "Good. Get them all gathered in the dining room. Keep all others out. We'll be down in a moment."

Nymphadora nodded and hurried back the way she had come. Harry heard a thud, a squeak, several more thumps, then a pitiful moan. He frowned and stalked to the rail to peer down over it. Two landings down, Nymphadora was laying in a heap, moaning in apparent pain.

"Should I send for a medic?" he called down. "Or just put you out of your misery?"

"Oh, bugger yourself," Nymphadora called back before wincing and rolling over onto her stomach to try and push herself back up.

Harry shook his head and turned to find Hermione looking on worriedly. "She'll be fine," he assured her.

Hermione didn't look convinced. "Are you sure?"

Harry shrugged. "She's still acting normal, so I can only assume." He held out his hand to her. "Shall we?"

Hermione took his hand and the two made their way down the stairs. They stopped where Nymphadora was still leaning against the wall.

"Are you sure I can't do anything for you? A cup of tea? Something cool to drink? Killing Curse? The latter will save you the embarrassment of the Troll Leg I've heard so much about."

Nymphadora took a swipe at him but Harry just leaned back a bit and her hand whipped by harmlessly. "We don't talk about the Troll Leg, okay? Do _not_ go there. That damned thing is out to get me, I swear. It's jinxed or something. Has to be."

Hermione shook her head. "Tonks, we've been over this. There's nothing on the Leg. It isn't jinxed. I checked it myself."

Nymphadora shot her a glare. "It _moves_ , dammit!"

Harry just chuckled and continued down the stairs, Hermione going with him, her hand still clutched in his.

Nymphadora followed behind them, cursing under her breath.

When they reached the ground floor Harry looked at the Troll Leg Umbrella Stand, sitting by the wall where the hall turned into the landing.

They walked right by it and into the dining room without a problem but another cry and thud told them that Nymphadora had once again fallen victim to the thing. They both turned back to find Nymphadora laying in the middle of the landing glaring at the Troll Leg, which was still by the wall, but a little bit to the left of it's original position; which Harry could see thanks to a disturbance in the dust.

"It _moved_ , I tell you!" poor Nymphadora said, her lip trembling.

Harry looking pityingly down at her and released Hermione's hand to go and hoist the older woman to her feet. She dusted herself off, not taking her eyes off of the Leg as she backed slowly into the dining room.

Harry was about to follow her in, shaking his head and wondering if the thing was possessed. Unfortunately, the ruckus had awoken a rather angry portrait, which was now screaming about mudbloods and blood-traitors. Harry sighed. He recognized that voice. It was Walburga Black.

He walked down the hall and looked up at the portrait. "Walburga, please stop that incessant screeching," he said.

The portrait looked down at him and recognition was evident. "Ah, Harry. I didn't not realize that you were here, in the house of my fathers."

Harry smiled at the old woman. "Yes. I have finally taken up residence here. After all, as Lord of House Black I should make use of the Black ancestral home, no?"

Walburga nodded. "Indeed you should. I pray you put it to better use than that treacherous son of mine."

"Sirius?" Harry asked.

She nodded. "Yes. The only son I have left now that Regulus is dead."

Harry was confused. "Regulus is dead?" he asked. He had not heard such. He didn't know where he was or where he had gone but he was sure that if he was dead he would have heard about it.

She nodded, looking quite morose. "Yes. He must be. Why else has he not returned here? It has been years since I last saw him."

Harry nodded. "I have not seen him either, but I have heard no mention of his death from anyone."

"You think he could yet live?" she asked, hope evident in her voice.

Harry shrugged. "I think it is entirely possible."

"He betrayed the Dark Lord," Walburga said. "Why else would he be missing like this? He must have done something, something to draw the ire of the Dark Lord."

"Yes, he did," Harry agreed. "And I know what he did."

"Tell me," Walburga said. She seemed a lot less bothered by her son's betrayal than Harry would have expected.

"He discovered Voldemort's darkest secret," he told her. "A secret I too have learned."

"What secret?" she asked.

Harry frowned at her. "Why do you wish to know?" It was suspicious.

"I want to know what was so terrible that my son turned against the rest of his family," she said, an edge appearing in her tone.

Harry pondered. "You know, it must be terrible, only having this one portrait to visit. Stuck here with all of these mudbloods and traitors. I can't imagine it." He kept his voice purposefully disparaging.

Walburga sighed. "You have no idea, my boy. All I can do is look at that blasted wall of Elf Heads or these damnable curtains all day and night. I can sleep, but it does little good. More of a habit than anything. I told Regulus that I needed a second portrait somewhere else, but he did not see why it was necessary."

Harry smiled. Well, that was one worry out of the way. At least he knew that she had no way of getting information out to someone else. But, he didn't feel right divulging that information. So, with a flick of his wrist, he sent the curtains hanging on either side of the portrait flying closed and secured them with a lock. He heard a very muffled shriek from within and chuckled. He felt a bit bad for doing it, but the woman he saw in that portrait was not quite the Walburga he had met. This was either a younger – only slightly – version who was more angry and less composed, or perhaps she had been pushed to her limits and her temper had flared. After all, he barely knew Sirius and wanted to strangle him, literally. He couldn't imagine how the man's mother would feel having to see him everyday. "We'll talk more soon, Madam Black, but for now, I have pressing matters to attend to."

"HARRY!" Walburga called, but it was severely muffled and Harry ignored it.

He walked back to the dining room where everyone he had asked for was gathered, waiting for him. Hermione was looking at him oddly but said nothing. Harry raised a brow at her. She just shook her head, smiled slightly and turned her attention to the room.

Bill, Fleur, Charlie, Nymphadora, Lily, James, Remus, Sirius, Arthur, Moody, Percy, a tall black man who could only be Kingsley, Luna and Xenophilius were all gathered there in the room, sitting around the table.

Harry walked around to the head of the table and sat down, Hermione sitting at his left hand.

"I trust you all know why we are here?" he asked. He looked specifically at Kingsley, who nodded. "Have you anything to tell of your watch at the Manor?" he asked the man.

Kingsley hesitated but shook his head. "No. There was only one man who entered. It was early this morning. I recognized him. It was Barty Crouch Jr."

Harry nodded. "What sort of mood was he in?"

Kingsley shrugged. "Seemed agitated."

Harry nodded again. "Alright. So, to business. The Ministry will be closed now, correct?"

Arthur nodded. "Yes, Harry. There may be a few still there to catch up on work, but the majority will be gone and the cleaners will be finished soon as well. Beyond that, there is a guard posted on every level. Regular patrols every thirty minutes or so."

Harry listened intently, and Hermione was actually taking notes at his side, a pad of paper and a muggle pen in her hand. She was scribbling furiously while Arthur spoke. She felt Harry's eyes on her. "I want to keep a record of the information for later reference," she explained.

Harry waved a hand and the pen floated out of her hand and hovered over the pad. "Just think about if you want it to copy down what is said and it will do it," he told her. "This way you can take notes and take part at the same time."

She smiled sheepishly at him and nodded.

"Now," James spoke up this time, a look of annoyance on his face. "There are only two entrances into the Ministry. The Floo network and the visitors entrance. That is all. One cannot apparate within the Ministry nor can they apparate into or out of it. It's sort of like Hogwarts in that regard. Now, both entrances lead to the atrium. You remember what that is from Christmas?"

Harry smirked. "I remember."

James scowled at him but continued. "The Department of Mysteries is where we are going. It's the ninth level. The lowest level accessible by lift; the courtrooms are below that, but only accessible by a staircase from Level Nine. What goes on down there is mostly a mystery, hence the name. Top secret fields of study. Once we get down there, we're flying blind. None of us have ever been there and there is no map or floor plan for it in the archives. It is completely off the books and that means we'll have to be careful. From what I hear, it is a place of dark and terrible things and more than one intern has simply disappeared down there and never been seen or heard from since."

"So what's our plan?" Bill asked.

Harry thought. "Well, it seems pretty self-evident. We go in, subdue the guard in the atrium, take the lift down to level nine, take out the guard there, and enter the Department of Mysteries. From that point, it is pointless to make a plan because we have no idea what we will be getting ourselves into. Who do we have guarding Rowle and Malfoy?"

"The Order doesn't have anyone," Moody said gruffly. "The Task Force on the other hand has Robards and Williamson on them."

"Just the two?" Harry asked. He had not had occasion to see them fight before, so he was a bit skeptical of their abilities to protect their charges should the Death Eaters attack.

"Trust me," Sirius said. "They'll be enough."

Harry nodded. He didn't really care about whether the two captured Death Eaters lived or died, but he also knew that they were an advantage if kept alive. There was always information they may know that Harry did not.

"All right. We'll go in two teams once we enter the Department of Mysteries. We'll split up to cover more ground. If you find the Prophecy, guard it until I get there. We'll all meet up there eventually."

Hermione raised her hand.

"You aren't in school anymore, Hermione," Harry said gently. "If you wish to speak, then speak. You do not need permission."

Hermione flushed crimson and lowered her arm. "Um. Why not stick together down there? There's strength in numbers and we don't know what could be down there. It might be safer to all stay together."

"The woman speaks sense," Fleur said, looking at Hermione with admiration. Harry had only heard the woman speak once before and he was only now noticing her accent, which was not as pronounced as he would have expected of a native-born French witch.

Harry smiled at the two women in turn. "Yes, she does. However, I have my reasons for wanting two groups."

"What are they?" Charlie asked. "Your reasons, I mean."

Harry frowned. "I suspect there is more to this than meets the eye. If Voldemort just wanted the Prophecy, he could have already had it. But he has not gone for it. I believe it is a trap, set to try and lure me out of hiding. Voldemort believed me dead, but Barty knows better. If it is as I suspect, it is his doing."

"Barty Crouch Jr.?" Kingsley asked. "The boy is smart, no doubts about that. Twelve OWLs. But a strategic mastermind he is not. More likely to waste his family's gold on drink than pose a threat."

Harry smirked. "That's what he would have you think. I know the man. We fought side-by-side for many years. He taught me everything I know. He is cunning and ruthless. The whole 'prodigal son' image he puts out is a ruse. I've seen him slaughter and torture with impunity. Who do you think stood with me and tortured the Longbottoms that day in Diagon Alley? Who do you think killed Amelia Bones and her family? That was Barty. He Imperiused them and made them hang themselves. Do not underestimate him. It would be your first and last mistake."

The Aurors in the room looked both sick and angry.

"He also knows that I am alive," Harry continued. "He was there when I killed Bellatrix. He let me go. I don't know why but he did. He's unpredictable, that one. Now, as for the two teams, there are," he counted them all quickly, "sixteen of us. That means two teams of eight. James, Remus, Sirius, Moody, Kingsley, Percy, Arthur and Xeno, you'll be one team. Mum, you, Hermione, Luna, Nymphadora ("HEY!"), Fleur, Bill, Charlie and myself will be the other. Any objection?"

James scowled. "I don't like you taking a bunch of kids with you. Nor my wife."

Harry waved him off. "I trust mum more than I trust the rest of you put together," he said, gesturing to the team of which James was a part of, leaving Xeno out. "And I trust the rest of them just as much, if not more so. That's why I'm sending Xenophilius with you all. To keep an eye on you all. I trust him. I _don't_ trust you." He pointed at James to emphasize his point. "Now, if there are no more questions or objections, I call this meeting to a close. Go and prepare yourselves." He pulled out his pocket watch. "We leave in thirty minutes."

 **XXXX**

One by one the sixteen chosen fighters for this mission gathered around the fireplace of Grimmauld Place, the rest of the Order all gathered there with them.

"Oh, do be careful," Mrs. Weasley begged of Arthur and Percy.

"Molly, please," Arthur frowned. "We'll be fine."

"I still don't see why we can't come," Ron groused, crossing his arms and glaring at where Harry and Hermione were standing with Luna and Xeno.

"Yeah," Ginny joined in. "Luna and Hermione are going, so why can't we?"

"Don't be foolish, Ginny," Molly admonished. "You're still a child."

"So is Luna," Ginny countered. "We're the same age! And what about Hermione?"

"Hermione is legally an adult now, it's her choice," Molly sighed.

"Then why can't I go?" Ron complained. "I'm the same age as her!"

Molly looked like she was being backed into a corner. Luckily, Arthur stepped in. "You two aren't going because it was decided that only those necessary would go."

"So basically, what you mean is that Harry told you all who would be going and you all agreed?" Ginny scowled. "What's going on here, Dad? Are you all just going to let him come in here and make you all his slaves?"

Arthur frowned at his daughter's insinuation. "We are doing nothing of the sort, Ginny. Now, I don't want to hear another word about this."

Over by the fireplace, Harry was leaning against the wall. He had been listening in with his enhanced hearing and was frowning slightly. He didn't like the way that Arthur had said those last words, like he knew something they didn't.

"I've been to France a few times," Hermione said from his side. He glanced over to see her in conversation with Fleur. "My parents actually considered sending me to Beauxbatons instead of Hogwarts but were persuaded against it by Dumbledore."

"I think you would have done very well in Beauxbatons, Hermione," Fleur said. "From what I have heard about some of the Hogwarts teachers they are not the best."

Hermione considered this. "Well, I'll admit that some of our Professors were not the best people and their method was lacking, but we still learned everything we needed to pass our exams. Now, I did do better than most but that was because I read more than just the recommended books."

"Then, if you had to read more than the others in order to do better, did you not just admit that they did not teach you all that you needed to know?" Fleur raised a brow.

Hermione frowned. "I suppose one could look at it that way. I always just chalked it up to my having a better work-ethic and thirst for knowledge that most of the other students didn't."

Fleur smirked. "Well, I still stand by my words. You would have done really well in Beauxbatons. But, that is neither here nor there. So, how did you find France?"

"Oh it was beautiful," Hermione gushed. "The culture; the food, the architecture, the art, the music, the literature, the language. I loved it all."

Fleur smiled with evident pride in her homeland. " _Oui_ , it is something to behold, is it not. Our Ministry is much more...um... _tol_ _é_ _rant_?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, tolerant."

Fleur nodded too. "Yes, they are more tolerant to those with non-magical lineage. That is not to say that we do not have those against them in France, but they do not control our government like they do here. I almost feel pity for them. They are clinging to a lost cause. Trying to preserve the ashes of a time past. They can not let go of traditions."

"Why should they?" Hermione asked. "Traditions should not be lost just because they are old. They are not preserving the ashes, they are trying to pass on the flame."

Fleur seemed to have lost the conversation because her expression was confused. "I do not.. _expliquer, s'il vous pla_ _î_ _t._ "

Hermione shrugged and launched into a lengthy explanation in French, which Harry could not follow. Fleur seemed to be getting the gist of it though, so Harry figured Hermione must be quite fluent in the language or at least passable.

"...You follow what I'm saying?" Hermione asked.

Fleur nodded. "Yes. Traditions and political beliefs are not the same. I do not know how I got that all messed up."

Hermione waved this off. "It's okay. Ours is a difficult language to grasp, and you are doing very well. Your accent is not as thick as it used to be either."

"One thing I cannot understand," Fleur said, "Is how your Ministry does not listen to its people. The _voix du peuple_ is always taken into account in France. Our Ministry fears _r_ _é_ _volution_ should they do something the people do not like."

"It's a difference between the government controlling the people and a people controlling the government. Both have strengths and weaknesses aplenty," Hermione said.

Fleur agreed. " _Oui_."

"It's time to go," Harry announced, looking at his pocket watch.

All conversation drew to an end and the sixteen lined up by the fireplace. Harry lifted the pot of floo powder and held it out to Xeno, who was the first in line. "See you on the other side, Harry," Xeno said.

Harry nodded and offered him the powder.

Xenophilius took a handful and tossed it into the fire, which sprung up bright and green. "Ministry of Magic," Xeno intoned, stepping through and vanishing with a flare of green flame.

"Next," Harry called out.

Bill went next, followed immediately by Fleur, then Charlie and then Nymphadora and Luna. He let them go first because he didn't trust James or the others not to alert someone to the fact that Harry was going to be in the Ministry. At least he had some possible allies there first.

James, Remus, Sirius, Moody, Kingsley, Arthur and Percy followed. Then Lily stepped up and took her handful. She smiled kindly at Harry and Hermione, her eyes sad, then went through the floo as well.

"You next, Hermione," Harry said, offering her the pot. "I'll be right behind you."

She nodded and took a handful of powder. She kissed his cheek and whispered, "Don't take too long," before throwing the powder into the fire and stepping through.

Harry took his own handful, well aware of the eyes on him. He glared up at Ron and Ginny and Molly. "I know what you all think of me," he told them. "And you are right. I am a monster. I'm a killer and I don't regret any of it. And yes, Molly, I did kill your brothers. But, they were going to kill me, so I killed them first. You can hate me all you want, but it won't change anything." He threw the powder into the fire and it flared up brightly behind him. "You're husband and sons will be fine, so long as they remember who the real enemy is." He turned his back on them and called out, "Ministry of Magic!" before stepping in.

It was sort of true, what he had told Molly about her brothers. They _had_ been on his trail at the time of their deaths, but he had killed them in their home. He burned them alive.

He exited the other side without issue and found the others already separated out into their groups, both sides glaring at the other, except Xeno, who stood a bit in the middle of the two as a sort of peace-keeper.

"What's happened?" Harry demanded as he took in the situation.

"James tried to force Lily into his group," Hermione said from where she was standing with his mother.

Harry turned his sharp gaze onto James. "Is that true?"

James sneered. "I don't trust her with you," he said, pointing at Harry.

Harry sighed heavily. "We have no time for this nonsense, James," he said. "I gave you a team of people you trusted so that you would feel safer, and I kept mum with me because I don't trust her with _you_. You left me to die as a child, what would stop you from doing the same to her?"

"I love her," James growled.

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Did you not love me too, Father?"

James gaped, his mind catching up with what he had said. His mouth moved soundlessly.

Harry sneered. "Stick to the plan or I'll leave your corpse here for the Aurors to find in the morning. It's as simple as that." He walked by, shoving James out of the way as he did so. "Come on, we're going."

His team fell in behind him and Xeno joined them. A moment later the other team did too.

They entered the lift, somehow cramming the lot of them in rather uncomfortably. Harry pressed the rune for the ninth floor, which was a Nauthir rune, the English/Latin equivalent was an 'N', and N was the first letter of Nine. Made sense in an elementary sort of way.

The lift descended down into the earth and finally came to a stop and a female voice announced "Level Nine, Department of Mysteries," from an unseen source. The doors clanged open loudly, making Harry flinch. The differences down here, compared to the upper levels, was stark. Down here, the walls were painted a solid black, as was the floor and ceiling, and the only light available was provided by intermittent torches that burned with a pale, ethereal blue light.

He ran forward quietly, motioning the others to stay by the lift, hoping that the guard had not heard their arrival. He reached the first turned and peered around, seeing the guard pacing in from of a door that was as black as the wall around it. Had he not been looking for it, Harry was sure he would not have seen the door at all.

He studied the guard and was not surprised when he recognized him. Harry smirked. It was Rookwood. Yet another name to cross off of his list.

He looked back and motioned the rest of them forward. They gathered behind him and told them where the guard was and who it was. "I'll take care of it," he said.

He stood to full height and stepped around the corner, striding directly toward the guard.

Rookwood saw him and pulled his wand. "Halt! Identify yourself!"

Harry kept walking and came to a stop a few feet from the other man. "Hello, Augustus," he said.

Rookwood peered at his with wide eyes. "You, you're dead. The Dark Lord said you were dead!"

Harry chuckled. "Rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated, it would seem. I also know you don't believe that at all. You're lying, Augustus. Voldemort knows I live. He knows because Barty told him so. And you've more than likely already notified them of my being here, have you not?"

Rookwood swallowed thickly. "N-No, I haven't told anyone anything. How would I know you were here? I just saw you!"

Harry sighed and blasted the man off his feet with a wave of his hand, then grabbed him with his metal arm, dragging him to him, wrapping an arm around his neck. "You're lying again. I don't like that." With a sharp twist, he broke the man's neck and let him fall to the floor.

"So, Voldemort knows we're here?" Sirius asked. "Is he dead?" he asked, looking at Rookwood.

Harry turned to find them all standing right behind him. He had been so caught up with Rookwood that he had not heard them approach. Sloppy.

"It would appear so," he told them, answering both of Sirius' questions. "I suspect that either the lift gave us away or they had another guard up in the atrium. I didn't see one but I was distracted by unnecessary foolishness." He glared at James.

"There was no guard," Xenophilius informed Harry. "I looked. There was no one in the Atrium."

"Moody, did that magical eye of yours see anyone or anything?" Kingsley asked.

"Nothing," Moody growled. "I'd have said something otherwise." Said eye was darting around at them all. "Get your wand out of your pocket, Tonks. Better witches and wizards have lost buttocks that way!"

Nymphadora looked affronted. "Keep that bloody eye off my arse, Moody!" Her hair turned a fiery red that gave Lily and the Weasleys a run for their galleons.

Moody ignored her. "Wands at the ready, everyone. We don't know what's coming."

"Can't you see through that door?" Charlie asked, gesturing to the plain black door in front of them.

Moody looked even grumpier than normal, if that was possible and growled out a single syllable. "No."

"We should go back and come back another day," Percy said, looking behind them in case someone sneaked up on them.

Harry shook his head. "No. We've already come this far, we aren't going back."

He didn't wait for them to respond before pulling open the door and stepping inside. The others followed him in and they found themselves in a circular room with several red doors with no handles. Suddenly the room started spinning, and not in the light-headed, dizzy, about-to-faint sort of way. No, it was literally spinning, the doors a crimson blur all around them. All of this was reflected in the floor which was made of black marble so smooth and clean that it was like a dark pool of water at their feet; the ceiling was so dark that one could not tell where it was. On either side of each door was a small candle burning with the same sort of light as the torches outside. They did not appear affected by the spinning.

"A defense mechanism," Remus guessed. "Probably designed to confuse and slow down unauthorized entrants." The doors came to a stop and their color faded from bright red to a dull grey, barely discernible from the walls. "Alastor, can you see through any of these?"

Moody shook his head, his shaggy mane of hair swaying. "No. Blast it all. These damned Unspeakables and their obscure magic. They're pissing me off."

"This is where we split up, then," Harry said. He pointed to a door. "We'll go that way, Moody, you and your group go another. Remember, whoever finds the Prophecy first, stand guard until the rest of us reach you."

"Yeah, yeah, we got it," Moody growled, limping over and pushing open one of the doors. There was a wide open room that had an eerie green glow to it. He strode in with the rest of his team following him, Remus holding the door open for them all to go through.

Harry caught Xeno by the arm and looked him seriously in the eye. "Don't let them out of your sight. I don't trust them. If something goes wrong or seems off, get out of there."

He nodded, brushing his long pale hair out of his face. "I will." He then followed them inside, the door closing behind them.

As soon as the door closed, the doors turned red again and the room was once again spinning at dizzying speeds.

Harry cursed as the doors stopped and faded again. "Well then, that is rather annoying," he mumbled.

Hermione looked concerned. "How are we supposed to know where to go?" she asked worriedly.

Harry walked over to a door and pushed it. It didn't budge. He tried again. Nothing. "This one's locked," he said curiously. "You think the Hall of Prophecy is in here? I'd keep it locked if it were me."

Hermione joined him. "I don't know." She drew her wand and pointed it at the door. " _Alohomora!_ "

Harry pushed again. Nothing. "That didn't work." He drew his own wand – the Elder Wand – and pointed it. " _Bombarda Maxima!_ " A powerful blast erupted from Harry's wand and impacted the door solidly. A cloud of dust kicked up and blocked their vision but Harry was sure that he heard something splinter. But when the smoke cleared, the door was just as it had been before.

"Whatever they have in there, it must be big for them to have this much protection on it," Charlie said. "Bill, you think you can break it?"

Bill shrugged. "I can try." He stepped up and pulled out a small looking glass, holding it up to his eye and peering through. "This lets me see the runes that make up the enchantments," he explained to them all. "Wow, you should see this, it's incredible."

Harry stepped over and took the small glass from him and looked through it too. He whistled low. "That's a lot of layers," he said, lowering the glass.

Hermione took it and looked too. "Are there normally that many?" she asked, passing the glass on to Fleur, who passed it Nymphadora and then to Charlie and finally Lily after each had looked. Finally the glass was back in Bill's hand and he was looking through it again.

"No," Bill said. "I have never seen this many runes in one enchantment before. Not even in Egypt, or this one job I did in Norway. Let me tell you, those Norse knew what the hell they were doing." He lowered the glass and put the glass away in his jacket pocket. "There's no way I can break this right now. It would take hours, if not days."

Harry sighed. "Very well, we'll try a different one and see if there is another way inside."

Hermione went to the door to the right of the locked door and pushed it open. The silence was immediately filled with a constant, busy ticking noise and a pale light flowed out. "Wow," she breathed, stepping inside. Harry and the others moved to follow but the door slammed shut, closing Hermione off from them.

"HERMIONE!" Harry screamed, reaching for the door as the room began to spin once more. When it stopped, Harry looked around again and cursed loudly. He did not know where she had gone.

 **XXXX**

Hermione jumped and squeaked as the door slammed closed behind her. She turned back to try and throw it open again but it would not budge. She heard her name cried out but it faded away like it had been cut off completely.

She pulled at the door again and again, but when it finally did open, the room with the doors was empty. Harry and the others must have gone through a different one in search of her.

She closed the door again feeling a well of panic forming in her gut. She turned and faced the room she had found herself in and gasped again. The room was filled with a beautiful dancing light like the sun reflected off a thousand crystals or the ocean's surface.

This effect was amplified by the fact that every visible surface was covered with clocks of various size and shape. They were on the walls, the ceiling, the desks, on top of the bookshelves, even a few sitting on the floor. Hermione had never seen so many clocks in one place and they were all ticking in perfect sync with each other, creating a sound like an army marching through the room forever.

She noticed a row of doors on one side of the room and ran over to one of them and threw it open only to be disappointed when it revealed only an empty office with even more clocks.

She threw open the next one, and the next one, and the next one, and each door yielded the same result except for the last, which would not open; she wondered if it led to the same place as the other locked door.

Her heart was racing by this point and she was breathing faster than was normal. She spun about, fearing that she would have to go back to the circular room and open a new door.

A shelf across the room caught her attention and she walked over to it. It was filled with a bunch of devises of varying size, like pocket watches but with an hourglass inside. Time-Turners, she realized. She had read about them before, and used one before as well. They were highly restricted by the Ministry and one could only obtain one with special permission from the Minister himself. Hermione herself had used one in her third year so that she could take every class offered by Hogwarts, many of which had class times at the same time. She had been careful and nothing had gone amiss for the whole year, but she decided to drop Divination and Care For Magical Creatures for the next year, meaning she no longer needed the Time-Turner and it had been returned to the Ministry without any issue.

Thinking of it now, she was quite sure that the little golden one with a simple little hourglass was the exact one she had used. Yes, she was quite sure of it. Each turn of the glass turned back time by one hour. She surmised that they went up in size based on how much they altered time. Days, weeks, months, years, decades, centuries, millennia.

She backed away from the display, which was covered with a plate of thick glass. She walked further into the room and her eyes fell onto a large bell jar. She approached it and looked at it with awe. It appeared to be made of crystal and stood about three meters tall and it was from this that the shimmering light that filled the room was emanating.

Inside was a small jewel-like egg, hovering about a foot off the bottom. As she was watching, the egg cracked and a small humming bird floated out, growing larger and more mature as it floated up. When it reached the top of the jar it was old and faded and weak, then it floated back down again, the aging process going in reverse and finally it was sealed once more within the egg. Then, it did it all again, and again.

Hermione shook her head, but unable to tear her eyes away. It was horrible. What was the purpose of such a thing? She could not imagine how it felt to have that be your entire existence; to be born, grow old, then go back to an infant and be born again only to grow old again and have the entire thing play out on a continuous loop forever. Unable to truly live, unable to die. No time to form memories or connections. No love, no joy, no happiness at all. It was a pointless existence; one she would not wish upon anyone or anything.

She couldn't tear her eyes away from the horrifying display and the more she watched it, the more her heart ached for the poor little bird. Tears streamed down her cheeks, the salty droplets clouding her visions slightly, but through them she could still the see the poor bird far too clearly. Finally, she could take it no more and she pointed her wand at the jar and blasted it to pieces.

As shards of shattered crystal rained down around her the spell on the bird was broken. Unfortunately, her timing had not been the best and the bird was old now and laying weakly on the bottom of the jar.

Hermione sank to her knees and gently picked it up, cradling it to her breast as tears slipped from her eyes. What cruel person would subject a poor innocent creature to this sort of torture, and for what? A bit of research? What was worth this? Surely the study of time was not worth stealing the freedom and life from this small, defenseless creature. It couldn't be. She refused to accept it as such.

She looked down at the bird. "I'm so sorry," she whispered tremulously. "I'm so sorry." With these last words, she snapped the bird's neck, ending it's suffering. She set it down next to the egg and wiped her eyes. She cursed herself for not thinking properly before destroying the jar. If she had timed it better, she would not have had to kill the bird and it could have had a chance to live properly. She hoped that in death it would find some meaning and the joy that it had been so denied here in this life.

She looked at the display of Time-Turners and considered, briefly, doing it all over again, but dismissed the idea, as she was the only one in the room and the risk of her other self seeing her was far too high. Nothing good could come of that. That, and the fact that she had not seen any evidence of another her being here meant that she had not gone back in time already and created a paradox. It was all very confusing but as there was no evidence to support her doing it, she felt it best not to do it. If there was no paradox, why start one now and complicate matters.

She climbed back to her feet and looked around once more. She spied a door that she had not previously noticed and went over to it, stumbling slightly the first few steps. She pushed it open slowly and peered through. The familiar pale blue light met her eyes and she sighed. She went through the door, her eyes widening at the sight before her.

 **XXXX**

Harry slammed his fist against the nearest door, knocking it open. It banged against the wall and closed again, sending the room spinning once more. He barely noticed, so caught up was his mind with worry for Hermione.

Lily was at his side instantly and put a comforting hand on his arm. "Harry, son, calm down. Anger will fix nothing here."

Harry glared at her but slowly her words sunk in as he found himself staring into eyes so very much like his own and he nodded, taking a deep breath to try and calm himself. It worked, sort of. He was no longer seeing red, but that could just be because the room had stopped spinning again and the doors had faded back to their normal color.

"You're right, sorry, mum." He looked at the door in front of him, knowing somehow that Hermione was not on the other side; that would be too easy. "Wherever Hermione is, she can take care of herself." Even he was fooled by how sure his voice sounded. He didn't doubt Hermione's ability to take care of herself, but this place was unpredictable and who knows what dangers lurked here.

Lily smiled tightly. "Exactly. She a smart girl, and powerful to boot. If anyone can get through this alone – besides you – it's our Hermione."

"She'll be fine, Harry," Luna said, stepping up on his other side.

"How do you know?" Harry asked.

Luna just smiled serenely. "I just know."

Harry almost laughed. Almost. It was such a Luna answer. "I believe you," he said. "I've had no reason not to so far."

Luna approached a door and pushed it open, holding it so that it didn't close again. "Shall we?"

They all filed through the door and into a dark room that was filled with a replica of the galaxy. The door closed behind them and the only light now came from the floating stars and planets in the room.

Luna was studying Pluto, circling around it curiously. "Hmm," she hummed. "This is a very odd place."

"You can say that again," Nymphadora muttered, circling around Mars.

"This is a very odd place," Luna repeated innocently, seeming not to noticed the annoyed looked that Nymphadora shot in her direction when she did.

"This is Venus, no?" Fleur asked, poking her finger into said planet.

Bill was at her side. "Yes." He wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her cheek.

"Mars is very bright," Luna said, going over to where Nymphadora was still looking at the red planet. "I wonder what that means."

Harry ignored this, having heard it before from the Centaurs. He ignored the planets altogether and strode through the room looking for a way out that wasn't the way they had come. "Can we focus, people, please?" he snapped. Despite being calmer now, he was still worried about Hermione.

Charlie was following him, not at all concerned with the planets. "We'll find her, Harry," he said quietly. "Look, there's a door there," he said pointing to a black door ahead of them. "Must lead us further in."

Harry nodded and smiled at Charlie briefly. "Thanks. Let's see what we find there. Come on, everyone."

Harry lead the way through this door and found himself in a room full of shimmering light that bounced off of the faces of what had to be hundreds of if not thousands of clocks.

He looked around and noticed several other doors, all opened, revealing empty offices. At either end of the room stood a door, one with a handle and one without. Fleur went over to check the one with a handle while Harry was drawn to a broken bell jar near the other door.

Inside the jar was a small hummingbird, old and dead, laying motionless next to a cracked egg. He knelt and looked at the bird and the egg curiously. The light in this room was similar, though dimmer than the one Hermione had gone into. He dared not hope that this was the same one, but someone had broken this and he doubted that the Unspeakables had done it.

"Other door leads to the entrance," Charlie reported, kneeling down next to him. "Hermione must have done this," he said, gesturing the jar. "That or the others. Either way, whoever it was, they had to have gone through this door or the one we came through, but we would have seen them if they had."

"So this door it is," Harry said. He stood up and they all went to the door with no handle. Harry pushed it open and his eyes were met with the sight of a vast, open room with row upon row of shelves holding glowing glass orbs of swirling light. The entire room was illuminated by the pale blue that the Department of Mysteries seemed to find so appealing, the source of which was the orbs themselves.

"I think we've found the Hall of Prophesies," Nymphadora said, her eyes wide with awe.

They started forward, fanning out a bit so that all rows could be viewed as they walked. They were deep into the chamber when the first sign of anyone else being there was seen. A figure, standing all alone far down one of the rows, looking at something on the shelf in front of them.

Harry motioned the others to follow and have their wands ready. They crept slowly forward, eyes locked on the figure, save for Charlie, who was walking backwards in case they were followed.

As they drew closer, the figure became clearer and Harry let out a sigh of relief. "Hermione!" he called out loudly as he dared.

Hermione did not look in his direction and he grew worried again, speeding up until he was at her side.

"Hermione, are you all right?" he asked, noting that she looked like she had been crying. Beyond that, she appeared unharmed.

Hermione just pointed at the shelf in front of her. "It has your name on it, Harry," she said.

Harry followed her finger to an orb, sitting at approximately eye-level. A small tag next to it read _Harrald James Potter & Tom Marvolo Riddle Jr._

Finally, Hermione looked at him and Harry could see that there was something she was holding back. He wondered if it had anything to do with the tears still staining her cheeks. "You should take the Prophecy, Harry," she said. "It's what we came for."

Harry didn't think that was important at the moment, more concerned with Hermione than the Prophecy, but he was also aware that this was not the place for such a thing. So, this in mind, and with the intention of getting them out of there so he could talk to Hermione in the privacy of their bedroom – he didn't like the look in her eyes – he reached up and closed his hand around the orb, lifting it from the shelf.

" _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...and the Dark Lord shall Mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not...and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives...the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."_

Harry heard the voice inside his head, a rasping, breathy voice that he did not recognize. But before he could question this, the sound of slow clapping and a new voice was heard, and this time it was not within his head.

"Bravo, Harry. Bravo."

Harry turned slowly, his eyes narrowing and his heart skipping a beat. "Barty."

Barty was walking toward them down the row, still clapping slowly, no wand visible. "I must say, old friend, you do not disappoint. I told Voldemort that you would not be able to resist the lure of the Prophecy."

"Let me guess," Harry said, turning to face Barty fully while the others formed a protected circle behind him, wands at the ready, "Now, you want me to hand it over to you so you can take it back to Voldemort?"

Barty shook his head. "Nah, I've no need for it." He waved a hand dismissively. "Those fellows, though, they might have some designs to that nature." He pointed behind them and Harry looked to the other side to find Lucius, the Carrows, Dolohov, Travers, Yaxley, Goyle, Crabbe, Parkinson, Jugson and the LeStrange brothers, all with wands drawn and ready.

"Your arrogance seems to have gotten the better of you, Potter," Lucius smiled. "Hand over the orb."

Harry sneered. "Why should I? What incentive do I have for something like that?"

"If you don't, we'll kill you, and all of your little friends," Lucius said, his voice oddly friendly for the situation.

Harry snorted. "You'll kill us either way. Try again."

Barty's laugh filled the air. "Now, now, Lucy, you didn't really think he'd fall for that one did you? He and I practically perfected that one. I remember this one time we-"

"Enough," Lucius snapped, cutting Barty off. "This is not the time for games, Bartemius."

Barty scowled but conceded the point. "All right, all right. You've left me no choice, Harry." He pointed his wand at Hermione. " _Crucio_."

Harry, quick as a flash moved in front of the curse and terrible pain wracked his body. He screamed and collapsed to the floor, writhing about in agony.

Hermione screamed, "Harry!" and dropped to her knees beside him, her hands hovering over him, afraid to touch him, lest he hurt her, or worse himself; Lily fell to her knees beside her as well. Hermione looked at Barty, who was snarling while still holding the spell. "Please, stop this! You're hurting him!"

Lucius laughed. "That's kind of the point, stupid girl."

Hermione ignored him. "How could you?" she demanded, still looking at Barty. "You're his brother! You're supposed to protect him!"

Barty sneered at her. "Do not speak of things you know nothing about!" But all the same, he released the curse.

Harry fell still on the floor, his breathing heavy and labored. He was not having the best of times there. Of course, no one enjoyed being tortured, but Harry was feeling so much more than that. His dream from that morning was back again, in full force and vivid clarity. He remembered now. The dream. It was this, only not this. He was being tortured, just like now, but he felt different, younger, his screams higher in pitch. And there was laughter, high, cold laughter. He knew that laugh. He had heard it so many times over the years, and it had always sent a chill of fear through his spine. It was Voldemort's laugh.

Was this a memory? Was that why it was so vivid and real? Why he could almost feel it again, on top of the pain from Barty's spell? But if it was a memory, why was he only feeling it now? Why was he only remembering now? He had only started having the dreams after the Mark was removed, along with his arm.

The Prophecy had fallen from his hand while he thrashed about and was now resting on the floor at Barty's feet. He knelt down and picked it up, his eyes widening and then narrowing.

"How..?" Hermione breathed.

Barty smirked. "When it's on the shelf, it can only be touched by the person it pertains to and the Keeper of the Hall of Prophecies. Once it has been removed, however, well, it free game at that point." He stood back up, still holding the Prophecy in his hand. "Now, how does this thing work?"

Harry, who was struggling to his feet with Hermione's help, frowned. When he had touched it, he had heard the Prophecy in his head. Was it different for others? He confessed to himself that he didn't know nearly enough about such things to even hazard a guess.

"Ah, well, it doesn't matter. We've got the damned thing. And," he pointed his wand at them again, "we've got _prisoners_."

The other Death Eaters laughed and pointed their wands too.

Harry's group all raised their own wands, prepared to fight their way out if they had too.

"Now, now, let's have none of that, shall we. I would so hate to have to maim and/or kill you all here."

Harry scoffed at Barty's words. "Don't lie to us, Barty. You'd like nothing more."

Barty sighed and walked closer to Harry, holding the orb at chest level. He leaned in close to Harry, who was shorter than him, to look him in the eye. "It would bring me no joy to see you fall today, Harry. As Miss Granger here said, you are my brother, and I have always been your keeper. Now, please come along quietly. I am sure I can convince the Dark Lord to be merciful. He may even let you keep the mudblood."

Harry considered for a moment, his expression thoughtful. His eye settled on the orb held between him and Barty and an idea formed. It was insane, but he never claimed to be in his right mind, so that was pretty much par for the course. "I'm sorry, Barty. But, things will never be the way they were. Never again." He lashed out, batting the orb out of Barty's hand, where it crashed against the shelf and shattered. The force also shattered a second orb and two clashing voices were heard, resulting in a garbled mess of words that were impossible to discern from each other.

At the same time that he did this, he blasted Barty back with a wandless spell, sending him to the floor.

"RUN!" he shouted to his friends and as one they began to sprint down the row, Harry hurtling the fallen Barty, who scrambled to his feet with a snarl and gave chase, the other Death Eaters following behind.

Spells and curses flew over their heads, impacting the shelves and several orbs were smashed. A blasting curse impacted one of the supports for a shelf and it began to topple. A whole wave of glowing prophecy orbs came crashing down around them, exploding against the floor in front of, behind and beside them and the air was filled the sounds of smashing glass and whispering and rasping voices.

Harry erected a shield around him and the others as they ran and the orbs deflected off, to smash elsewhere.

"HARRY!" Barty screamed from behind them as spell after spell landed around them.

A particularly close Killing Curse flew right through Harry's shield, shattering it as it did and went right over his head.

"Be careful, you stupid twat," Barty yelled at whoever had fired it. "The Dark Lord wants them alive!"

Finally, they reached the end of the row and turned back the way they had come. Harry was taking the turn last when he felt his legs get dragged from under him; a tripping hex, how schoolyard. He fell heavily to the floor, rolling from his own momentum. He regained his feet and kept running, only to realize he was going the wrong way.

He cursed but kept running regardless as the Death Eaters were right on his tail. "Follow them! I've got Harry," Barty commanded.

Harry gritted his teeth and spurred himself to run faster, but Barty was gaining on him with every stride now that they were out in the open. His legs were longer and carried him further with every step than Harry's did.

Harry fired a wandless Killing Curse over his shoulder but Barty easily dodged it, only slowing momentarily before he was back on Harry's heels like a demented hound.

Harry spied a door ahead of him and put on another burst of speed, hoping to get through it and put some distance between him and Barty. He didn't know why he was running, but something was holding him back from actually fighting Barty.

He reached the door and barreled through it without hesitation, which was a mistake because there was a sudden drop-off just on the other side and he went over it before he could even think about stopping. The only upside to this was that Barty was so close behind him that he suffered the same fate.

Harry landed heavily, the breath leaving his body. Barty landed next to him, his wand clattering away from him. They both lay groaning on the hard, stone floor.

"Son of a bitch!" Barty cursed loudly, favoring his arm. "You never can do things the easy way, can you?"

Harry coughed as he regained his breath. "I seem to recall you being the one who taught me to be so difficult. I was merely following your example."

Barty spat out some dust. "Oh, right, I see. Blame me for your shortcomings."

"Who are you calling short?" Harry snapped.

Barty laughed. "Oh, come on, Harry. You're like five foot, five inches, tops."

Harry scowled. "Am not!"

Barty guffawed. "That Hermione girl was taller than you!"

"Is not!"

"Okay, well, she was easily the same height as you," Barty said with utmost certainty.

Harry frowned and glowered. "I hate you."

Barty, who was climbing back to his feet, waved this off. "I can live with that." He bent over and picked up his wand with a groan. "I'm getting too old for this."

Harry stood up as well. "Yes, you're ancient."

"Get bent, tosser," the older man said, giving him a rather rude hand gesture.

Harry laughed and dusted himself off. "Aren't we supposed to be fighting?"

Barty shrugged. "I guess." He grew serious, keeping his wand at his side. "I really don't want to have to kill you, Harry. Come quietly and I'll try to see that your friends are spared."

Harry looked back up the way they had come. Hermione, his mother and the others were up there somewhere being chased by some of the most dangerous of the Death Eaters. The fact that _the_ most dangerous was down here with him did little to quell his anxiety.

"It's not too late to come home, Harry," Barty's voice interrupted his thoughts. "Voldemort will be angry, of course he will, and he'll undoubtedly torture you again, but at least you'll be alive and there is always the opportunity for you to regain your former place."

Harry didn't answer again. He was now looking around at the chamber they had found themselves in. It was large, and dark, seemingly carved out of the very earth. In the center was a large crag with a carved stone staircase leading up to the flat peak where an ancient-looking stone archway sat empty. Harry recognized it from a drawing in one of his books, _The Doors of Oblivion_. This was the Death Chamber, and that was the gateway that was spoken of in the book. Supposedly a doorway to the land of the dead.

Now that he was aware of it, he could hear a faint, distance whispering from the direction of the archway.

Harry made to step toward it but something clattered on the floor in front of him and he looked down. It was a wand. _His_ wand. Holly and Phoenix feather. He looked at Barty questioningly to find himself facing the business end of the other man's wand. "Pick it up, Harry," Barty ordered. "If you insist on doing this the hard way, we're at least going to do it proper. Pick it up."

Harry sighed and picked up the wand, and settled into his dueling stance while Barty did the same. They stared each other down for a long moment, neither moving or willing to back down. " _Avada Kedavra!_ " Harry shouted, firing the Killing Curse at his old friend, who dodged and fired back with one of his own.

Harry was on the move almost instantly, running sideways. He shot a cutting curse at Barty, who batted it away. Harry reached the place where the center crag began slanting upward at a sharp, steep angle and jumped, planted a foot and used it to launch himself off, spinning back toward Barty as he did, and fired another curse from the air as he descended, hoping the attack from on high would catch Barty off guard.

Unfortunately, Barty rolled under the curse and came up right next to Harry, lashing out with his wand hand balled into a fist. His punch connected with Harry's jaw, sending him stumbling backward. Harry blindly fired another cutting curse at Barty, forcing him to parry, giving Harry time to regain his focus.

He raised his wand just in time to deflect a curse from Barty that was on course for his face. "You're holding back," Barty growled.

Harry scoffed and moved his hair out of his face. "So are you," he countered.

"Well then, time to change that," Barty grinned a predatory smile, teeth bared like a wolf's.

He lashed out, moving his wand in a slashing motion. Harry blocked the curse and the second and third that followed in its wake, but was unprepared for Barty launching himself at him. The moved knocked him back against the slope of the crag, the jagged rocks digging into his back. Barty thrust his wand toward Harry's throat but Harry caught Barty's wrist with his left, metal arm, holding it at bay while he aimed his own wand, but Barty did the same to his arm, holding it fast.

Barty looked at Harry's left arm, eyes narrowing at the amount of strength Harry was showing in holding him back. Harry took advantage of the momentary distraction and headbutted Barty in the face, causing him to release his hold and fall back a step.

Harry scrambled up the crag a short distance and turned back to rain spell after spell at his old friend. Barty threw up a shield just in time to block most of it but a cutting curse made it through and hit him in the arm, leaving a long gash there.

Barty sneered at the pain. "Bastard."

He returned fire with a volley of curses of his own, several Killing Curses amongst them, though they went wide as his injured arm was his wand arm and his aim was off. Growling, he switched hands and climbed the crag after Harry, who backpedaled toward the peak. The two traded curses the whole way.

Harry felt safe in his high-ground advantage but misjudged a step and fell back onto the jagged crag as a curse sailed over him. He cried out as a particularly sharp piece of rock jabbed into the back of his ribs; he was sure to have a bruise, if not a crack in the actual bone.

" _Bombarda Maxima!_ "

The spell smashed into the rock next to Harry and sent him sailing through the air from the force of the blast. He landed against the rock again and it tore through his shirt and coat to scrape his flesh.

"So, this is new," Barty said, marching up to Harry and kicked him hard in the side. Harry turned onto his stomach to try and crawl to his wand but Barty stomped on his arm. Harry heard more than felt the bone snap. Barty looked at the metal arm as Harry rolled back onto his back, which was visible through a tear in his jacket. "So, that would explain why Voldemort thought you were dead. What did you do? Cut the damned arm off?"

Harry just glared at him and fired a cutting curse wandlessly at Barty, hitting him in the side. Barty stumbled back a step before kicking Harry in retaliation.

"That didn't answer my question," Barty said, one hand pressed to his side, which was now bleeding freely. "You cut off your bloody arm didn't you?"

Harry sneered and sent a silent bone-resetting charm to his arm, followed by a charm to mend them, wincing as the bones went back together.

Barty gaped, then laughed. "You _did._ " He was shocked. "Wow, even I have to admit that I did not see that coming. Of all the foolish things to do. It would seem you get into all sorts of trouble without me around to keep you grounded."

"You aren't my keeper, Barty," Harry bit out.

Barty _tsk_ ed. "See, that's where you are wrong, little brother. I've always been your keeper. Even when the Dark Lord first brought you back that night. I kept you clothed and fed as an infant. None of the others would bother. Then, when he would torture you in that dank cell, I nursed you back to health every time." He closed his hand into a fist and punched Harry. "EVERY BLOODY TIME!" He struck the younger man's face with every syllable. Finally he stopped and collapsed into a seated position at Harry's side, his arm growing weak as the two gashes on his body bled his strength away.

He frowned and stood back up walking a short distance to the top of the peak, looking up at the archway. He was breathing heavily. "You're still holding back," he said irritably. "You don't need that bloody wand at all, Harry." He mussed up his hair agitatedly. " _Stop holding back!_ " he snarled, marching back to Harry and kicking him again, hissing as his own wounds protested.

Harry hissed in pain as he rolled away from Barty and pulled himself to his feet. Barty was right. He was holding back, but he didn't know why. He knew that a part of him still cared about Barty. Years of close friendship, of _brotherhood_ , were not just thrown out the window in a matter of minutes, but he was never the sort to show his enemies any sort of mercy, no matter who they were; neither was Barty, for that matter. So why had neither of them killed the other yet?

"And that arm," Barty continued. "I felt the strength in it. You could choke the life out of me, or break my neck, or smash my face in, or crush my skull without a problem. That's what you did to Severus, right? Yeah, the Dark Lord was none too happy about that. So why don't you? Why not use it?"

Harry shook the metal arm. "I hate this thing. It makes things too easy. If it were up to me, I would have been rid of it already, but it was a gift, so I can't just get rid of it. Trust me, I'm working on finding a way to grow a new one."

Barty rolled his eyes exasperatedly. "Hubris." He cocked his head. "Well, if you refuse to use it, there's no reason for you to keep it. I wonder, can it block a Killing Curse? Let's find out. If it can, I can always just cut it off again. _Avada Kedavra_!"

Harry dodged the curse, but another was right behind it. More and more came until Harry was force to raise his metal arm, lest he be struck in the face by the sickly-green light. The curse impacted the arm and Harry screamed in pain as the metal was melted and warped. He wasn't sure why it hurt so much, but he suspected it was some sort of magical connection between the arm and his nerves, which allowed him to control the arm.

He dropped to his knees. Barty ran up and kicked him hard in the chest, knocking him onto his back, his breath leaving his lungs again. Barty pointed his wand at the remains of the arm and cast another Killing Curse, which all but destroyed the remainder of the arm, leaving behind a mess of molten metal and scar tissue.

Harry could barely see through the pain now.

"You should have trusted me, Harry," Barty said, admiring his handiwork. "It would have been so much easier." He let out a sigh like he was saddened by what had happened. "None of this would have happened," he breathed quietly.

Harry was still too much in pain to say anything but he was saved from responding by the sound of a door slamming open.

Barty turned to the group that had just entered and saw his fellow Death Eaters leading the rest of the group into the room. Hermione was at the front and she caught sight of them first. "HARRY!" she cried out, only to receive a slap from Amycus Carrow for her trouble. Barty fought down a snarl. He didn't condone such treatment of women but he said nothing. She was the enemy, and a prisoner. Now, if it escalated, he would step in. Probably.

The LeStrange brothers were supporting a long-haired redhead between them, a long slash running diagonally across his front. It looked like they had done a quick healing job on it but he had probably lost a lot of blood.

The Death Eaters lead their captives up the crag to the peak, where Barty was now standing, Harry still laying a short distance away. The LeStranges tossed Bill unceremoniously down on the hard floor, where he lay unconscious.

The others were forced to kneel in front of the archway, while Hermione tried to run to Harry's side, but Amycus snatched out and grabbed her by the hair, dragging her back kicking and screaming and forcing her to kneel too before hitting her again, this time with a closed fist. When she looked back up, she spit blood out of her mouth onto the stones in front of her.

Barty growled and walked over to Amycus and struck him hard enough to send him tumbling down the crag to land in a heap at the base. He glared at the other Death Eaters. "That was uncalled for," he said. "They are already beaten, there is no reason to beat them more, especially the women." He knelt down in front of Hermione and pulled out a handkerchief and tried to dab the blood away from her mouth, but Hermione snapped her teeth at his hand, her hands having been secured behind her back. He smirked. "I admire your spirit. I can see why he likes you."

He stood up with a groan and stuffed the handkerchief back into his pocket.

"Now, we find ourselves at an impasse," he said, examining the various wounds he had suffered from his fight with Harry, motioning for one of the LeStranges to do a quick healing on them; Rabastan did so, sealing the wounds roughly. They would scar but he didn't care. "We needed that Prophecy," he continued. "Admittedly, it was not the main reason for all of this, that was to capture Harry, but it was still an objective. Now, that Prophecy is gone. I have nothing left to bargain for your lives with." He actually sounded disappointed by the thought.

"What is all of this, Barty," Crabbe barked. "Let's just kill them!"

Parkinson nodded. "I agree with him, we only need Potter," he said, pointing at Harry's battered form.

Barty ignored them. "I so hate to see magical blood spilled," he said morosely. "And you are all Purebloods, right? Well, I mean, except for you, little Kneazle," he said, looking at Hermione. "But, I'm willing to overlook that."

Lucius sneered. "You treat the mudblood too kindly, Barty."

Barty shrugged. "Perhaps." He paused. "How did you get that scratch, Travers?"

Travers reached up to where his face had three distinct cuts on his cheek. "The mudblood bitch clawed me."

Barty smirked looking down at a defiant Hermione. "A Kneazle indeed." He cocked his head and sighed. "All right, I grow bored of this. Shall we?" He pointed his wand at Hermione, who stared back defiantly, though tears clung to the corner of her eyes.

" _EXPELLIARMUS!"_

Barty's wand flew from his grasp and went spinning away from him. He cursed and turned to see another group come rushing into the chamber, wands drawn and spells firing in all directions. The Death Eaters scattered, trying to seek cover. Alecto was hit in the back by a stunner and she fell down the side of the crag in much the same manner as her brother had.

Barty snatched his wand from where it had fallen and stood tall atop the crag, wand ready and a smirk on his face.

Sirius and James reached the peak of the crag first and James proceeded to free the prisoners while Sirius covered them, trading curses with Barty.

As soon as she was free, Hermione ran to Harry and let out a cry of relief as he was breathing, though it was labored. She took in the damage to his metal arm and the rest of his body. They needed to move him.

"Harry! Harry, please wake up!" she shook him gently.

His eyes cracked open and peered up at her, his vision clouded. "Hermione?"

"I'm here," she said, not really hearing the battle raging around them. "I'm here. Come on, we need to get you up."

Harry sat up with a groan, his teeth gritted together tightly. Hermione helped push him up and he managed to get his feet beneath him. He stumbled down the side of the crag and collapsed down into the small walkway at the base. Hermione was about to join him when a spell of dark purple flame snaked above Harry's head and struck her in the chest. She stood for a moment, her eyes wide; she uttered a tiny, "Oh!" as if surprised and fell lifeless to the ground.

"Hermione!" Harry cried out, climbing the crag with one arm, ignoring the pain he was already in. He grabbed her and pulled her down to him. He hauled her in close and released her and his hand went to her face, cupping her cheek as he cradled her in his lap. _Please don't be dead, please don't be dead.._ he repeated over and over in his head. His shaking fingers found her pulse point and he waited with bated breath until finally, he felt a pulse. Slow and weak, but there.

He heard rushing footsteps coming toward him and turned his head, raising his arm to fire a wandless spell at whoever it was.

"Whoa, Harry, it's just me!" Nymphadora shouted, skidding to a halt beside him. "Is she...?"

Harry shook his head, his hand now resting on Hermione's shoulder. "She's alive," he hissed. His entire body was in pain. "I..felt a pulse. But she needs help, fast. Did you see who cursed her?"

Nymphadora nodded. "Dolohov," she said. "He's over there, fighting Charlie now."

Harry followed her finger and saw the two men fighting. He gently lowered Hermione to the ground. "Get her out of here," he said, using the crag to pull himself to a standing position, swaying slightly as he got used to only having one arm again. "I'll take care of him."

"Harry, wait!"

But Harry was no longer listening to Nymphadora and was instead making his way toward Dolohov. "DOLOHOV!" he roared, his rage-filled voice cutting through the din of battle like a blade.

Dolohov spun toward him, ignoring Charlie, who took advantage and blasted the back of Dolohov's leg with a cutting curse.

The Death Eater fell to his knees with a shout of pain and Harry reached him a moment later. He struck out with his remaining fist and smashed it into the older man's face. He drew back and did it again, and again. When Dolohov fell back, he went to his own knees, still striking at Dolohov, hitting any part of him he could reach. Charlie stood nearby, covering his back.

Harry continued to beat on Dolohov. In his mind's eye he could see Hermione being struck by the curse, her eyes widening and then her falling. He saw it over and over again and it just fueled his rage. Finally, Dolohov fell still and Harry thought that he may have killed the man. A quick check of his pulse said otherwise. He grabbed the Death Eater's fallen wand, intent on severing his head like he had done to Neville, but stopped short. No, he wasn't done with this bastard yet.

"Charlie," He called out. The bearded man grunted to let Harry know he was listening. "I want this one alive. Bind him and bring him with us. We're getting out of here."

He struggled back to his feet and Charlie bound Dolohov with conjured chains, then hauled him up over his shoulder. A spell connected with Charlie's back but was absorbed by the dragon-hide duster he was wearing, he fired back, knocking Travers off his feet, where he lay unmoving.

Harry could see Nymphadora carrying Hermione in a similar fashion as she left the room. At the top of the peak, Barty was dueling alongside Lucius, both of them facing off against Sirius, Remus and James. As he watched, James blasted Lucius, knocking him back off the crag.

"Nice one, James!" Sirius shouted gleefully.

Barty was now facing down three men alone, and holding his ground quite admirably. Harry had been right all along; he was holding back. Now, Barty's movements were a blur as he stayed on the defensive, blocking everything they threw at him. Then, an opening presented itself and he lashed out with a cutting curse that left a deep gash across Lupin's face. The werewolf reached up to try and stem the flow of blood but all he did was give Barty another chance to strike. And strike he did, knocking Remus unconscious.

Harry began making his way toward them, steadying himself on the sloped crag when he lost his balance or stumbled. Just before Harry could get to them though, Moody came out of nowhere, growling as he grabbed Barty around the neck from behind. His staff was gone, laying broken not too far away next to Yaxley, who was just regaining his feet. His wand had been lost at some point as well it would seem; a black mark on the old Auror's record; he who was always going on about the importance of such things had failed to hold on to his own wand when it was needed most.

Barty raised his wand and pointed it at Sirius and James, knocking them both off their feet with a single curse, then pointed it behind him at Moody. " _Lumos_ _Maxima_!" he croaked, and the tip of his wand lit up. Moody released him, trying to shield his eyes from the extremely bright direct light. Barty turned and kicked the grizzled old Auror hard, and Moody careened backwards toward the opening of the archway and lost his footing when Barty hit him with a tripping jinx, falling through it.

And never emerged.

Barty must have been as confused as Harry was because he looked on either side of the thing and Moody was nowhere to be seen. Harry guessed that that confirmed it. It really was a doorway to the other side. A door that, apparently, only worked one way. Moody was dead.

Barty spied Harry and the two locked eyes for a moment, then Barty growled, his tongue flicking out like a snake's, as James and Sirius came running back up the crag from where they had fallen. He took one last look at Harry and fled, the remaining Death Eaters that were conscious going with him; Yaxley and the two LeStrange brothers, as well as the Carrows.

James and Sirius set about binding the unconscious ones immediately. "You might want to get out of here," Percy said, climbing the crag with his father. "If you're found here, it won't be good."

Harry nodded and joined Charlie and Fleur, the latter of whom was supporting a wounded but awake Bill, and Lily, who immediately offered support to Harry. Nymphadora had already gone ahead with Hermione. Together they all followed in their wake.

"Should I leave this one for the Aurors?" Charlie asked, shifting Dolohov on his shoulder.

Harry shook his head with a dark expression. "No. I'm not done with him yet."

Charlie only nodded and they all filed into the lift, leaving the Department of Mysteries far behind.

 **XXXX**

 **A/N: Holy Hel, this chapter is LONG! Don't get used to this. It doesn't happen often with me. Wow, I'm exhausted.**

 **Well, I hope you all enjoyed it.**

 **Feedback = love, and I need some of that. Please.**

 **Until, next time.**


	29. Four Nails and a Chain

**XXIX. Four Nails and a Chain**

It was like a physical wound, watching her laying there, so still and silent. Like a dagger stuck into his heart, twisting and tugged.

Harry sat in the chair looking at Hermione's motionless form. Had it not been for the steady rise and fall of her chest Harry would have feared that she had gone and died and left him alone. Had it been anyone else laying in that bed, he would not worry that they may die. Then again, had it been anyone else, they would not be laying in that bed at all. He would have left them where they had fallen. Hermione, though, she was different. He loved her. It was a strange thing for him to realize. He had said it before, and he had thought it was true, but now he knew.

It had been several days since the battle in the Department of Mysteries and Hermione was well on her way to recovery, though she was still in great pain and had to take no less than ten potions a day to ensure that she healed fully and properly. Harry had taken responsibility for making sure she took them every day at the same time. That time had come and gone for that day. And this was her cycle: sleep, wake up, eat, bathe, take potions, sleep. The last of the potions she took every day was a dreamless sleep potion; Madam Pomfrey, who had been the healer called in to help her, had said that the potions would heal her faster if her body was aiding them and the body healed faster when one was asleep. Madam Pomfrey had wanted to move Hermione to the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts, but Harry had adamantly refused. He was not leaving her side and he could not just openly waltz into Hogwarts; what with the Ministry calling for his arrest and going so far as to place a thousand galleon bounty on his head, dead or alive. So, for days, Hermione had only been awake for a handful of hours, the rest of the time spent in their bed in a dreamless sleep.

And Harry? Harry spent his time alternating between sitting at her bedside and visiting his prisoner in the basement. When in the room, he often sat reading through his own books, as best as he could with only one arm; magic helped immensely. The rest of the time he sat looking at her, replaying the moment that she fell over and over in his mind, wondering what he could have done differently. The most glaringly obvious was that he shouldn't have held back against Barty. If he had just killed his old friend, he could have gone and helped the others before they were captured.

Hermione wasn't the only wounded member of his team either. Bill had taken a rather nasty cutting curse to the torso and had been laid up in his bed for an entire day while Madam Pomfrey worked to save him, after making sure Hermione was stable. He was now up and about like normal with not even a scar to show for it. He and Charlie had started taking turns guarding their prisoner in the basement.

The fact that Harry was keeping Dolohov chained to a chair in the basement was a point of much heated argument between the members of the Order. The fact that Harry went down every day and beat the man senseless, venting all of his rage into the action, was even more so.

It was inhumane, they said; no better than the Death Eaters. It was beneath them. It was easy for them to take the moral high ground, but Harry paid them no mind. The man was going to suffer and there was nothing any of them could do about it. He had dared to attempt to murder his Hermione, and that was unforgivable.

Harry sighed, looking down at the book in his hand. _Runes, Rites and Rituals_ _of the Old Ways_. It was the book Hermione had been reading that morning on Boxing Day when he had awoken to find both her and Crookshanks in his room. Speaking of the Half-Kneazle, the so-ugly-it-was-adorable ginger beast was currently curled up at his master's side, offering silent support. Every so often the cat would look at him and _meow_ softly at him, as if to ask 'what are you doing way over there?'

Harry just smiled at the loyal menace. He may call Crookshanks things like beast, monster, menace or even terror but he honestly adored the furry creature. He didn't know why, but he just did. Something about Crookshanks endeared him to Harry. Maybe it was the loyalty to Hermione, which was something they shared. There was also the fact that the cat was extremely intelligent.

Harry sighed and stood up from his chair, setting the book on the small table by the head of the bed. He had found a promising ritual only moments ago. It claimed to be able to restore those with missing body parts to full form again. However, the ritual itself was a bit complex and required several participants in addition to the one to be restored; the latter of whom would be rendered unconscious by the ritual and took no part in it aside from the carving of a single rune into their own flesh.

He scratched Crookshanks fondly behind the ear and then leaned over and planted a soft kiss to Hermione's forehead, lingering just a moment longer than was necessary.

He then made his way out of the room and down the several flights of stairs to the entrance of the basement. He had his hand on the door and was about to pull it open when a voice from behind stopped him short.

"Harry."

He turned toward the voice and found his mother standing there. She looked rather nervous and Harry, for the life of him, could not figure out why. She had never really acted thus before, so what was the reason for this apprehension? "What is it, mother?" he asked, his tone slightly impatient.

Lily took a deep breath and then asked, "C-can we talk?"

Harry looked from her to the door in front of him. He wanted to go down there and beat his prisoner some more but he had also said that he would speak to his mother at some point. Better now when he had the chance than to forget about it later and not be able to.

"He'll still be down there when we're done, Harry," Lily said, as if she knew what he was thinking, which wasn't too difficult guess.

Harry smirked. "I know." He released the door handle and turned to face his mother fully. "All right. Let's talk."

Lily nodded and looked around. "Not here though," she said. "Come, we'll go up to the study."

Harry followed her up the stairs and into the study on the third landing of the house. The shelves, once filled to bursting with dark and rare tomes now stood sparsely adorned. Many of the tomes had been rescued by Harry in the winter and the ones that were replaceable had been thrown out by Sirius. Harry was not happy about this but at least the more valuable knowledge was safe from his totalitarian, forced censorship.

Harry closed the door and erected several privacy wards upon entering. He then settled himself into a soft, dark chair, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back with his arm perched languidly upon one arm of the chair. Lily mimicked him and settled herself across from him.

"How's Hermione doing?" Lily asked after a long moment of silence between them.

"She's healing," Harry answered. "Whatever Dolohov hit her with, it caused massive internal trauma. She was lucky to have survived. I suspect it was because he tried to get fancy and cast silently. He never was very proficient at it, but he does enjoy showing off."

"That's good to hear," Lily smiled. "But, you do not know the spell he used?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't. It's a Dolohov family curse and as you well know, family spells are fiercely protected and kept secret. I have heard him cast the spell before but he always whispered it so that no one could hear the incantation. But, as he is the last of his line, it will die with him."

Lily seemed to catch what he was saying. "You're going to kill him?"

Harry nodded. "Eventually. I want him to suffer first, though, for what he did to Hermione."

"That's why you've been torturing him," Lily said.

"Yes," he admitted. "He keeps telling us secrets, but doesn't seem to realize that it won't save him. He thinks we just want information from him and he had been giving more than we need but still we don't let up."

"'We'?"

Harry smirked. "Did you think it was just me down there?" He shook his head. "It gets a bit difficult to throw a punch with one arm after a little while. No, Charlie and Bill have been helping me."

Lily's eyes went wide. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are they helping?" Lily clarified.

Harry shrugged. "Charlie told me that he has done this sort of thing before, for the Order. Bill, well, he seems to have a lot of anger he needs to vent. I'm sure you can understand that, given how openly hateful his mother is to his wife."

Lily nodded. "I have, but Bill always seemed like such a gentle boy..."

Harry scoffed. "I'm sure that he _is_ , to those that matter or have done him no harm. But everyone, no matter how gentle or light has their limit, and their demons. Bill is now learning something that I learned a long time ago. The darkness is where you find out who you really are. He'll still be the man we all know, but there will be more of _him_ in him. There will be more sides to him. He'll be whole. After all, everyone has two halves, a dark and a light, and together they become a completed being."

"So, where is your light side?" Lily asked, then covered her mouth. "I'm sorry, Harry, that came out wrong."

Harry laughed. "Do not worry about it." He sobered. "If you must know, my light half is laying upstairs in a bed, healing from a near-fatal wound inflicted upon her by that bastard in the basement." Harry shook his head, his long hair brushing over his shoulders. "Before I met Hermione, I hated all things of the light. I still don't care for it, but I accept my light half for her. I don't cater to it very much but it is there, somewhere."

"You're good for her, Harry," Lily said quietly. "She never had many friends and every relationship she ever had ended quite badly. They never cared about her as a person, they only cared about what _favors_ she could do for them. Not that she was in the habit of doing _favors_ for anyone."

Harry nodded. "I know. She told me about it."

"Ron was just the latest in line for such a situation. Then you showed up. I've never seen someone match her on a mental level, let alone surpass her in some areas. You didn't see her as some trophy or a means to _get off_ ," she shuddered at the term, "you saw the brilliant, caring and gentle Hermione that I've always seen. The girl with the insatiable thirst for knowledge and a longing to just be accepted for who she is. I think she saw the same things in you too."

Harry shook his head again. "You're very perceptive, mother."

Lily smiled softly at him. "I have to be, son. Your father and his friends were always up to no good when we were all at school together. I had to keep them all in line on top of keeping up with my schoolwork. I learned to read them and tell when they were plotting, or keeping secrets. Then, with your little brother being such a loner and somehow still get himself into trouble I was doubly on alert. The Order helped to hone my skills as well. I am hardly ever asked my opinion in meetings. Save for a select few, the rest just see me as James' wife. So, I spend the time listening and watching them all. I read them better than they think. I had some suspicions about Severus before you revealed that he was more loyal to Voldemort than to the Order. I confess that I did not see the extent of his feelings for me or the toll that it took on him but I was not really surprised either."

"So, do you really think she would have dated Ron had I not been in the picture?" Harry asked. He didn't like to think that Hermione would have made such a poor decision but he had seen Ron's persistence for himself and Hermione, for all of her intelligence, was too kind for her own good at times.

Lily thought for a moment. "I like to think that she would not have subjected herself to that, but you know how she is. She would eventually take pity on him and agree to it. I can tell you though, that that relationship would not end well at all. Ron just doesn't have the qualities required to make Hermione happy. I don't know how much you know of their early years at Hogwarts but Hermione used to send me letters telling of how he bullied her and made fun of her for her bookishness and her 'know-it-all attitude' as he often phrased it. It wasn't until Hermione really started to blossom into the beautiful young woman we both love that he took notice of her. Then they began having to spend time together outside of school due to the increased activities of the Order and they managed to form a sort of friendship but Ron just wouldn't accept 'no' as an answer and asked Hermione on dates regularly. She always refused but it was wearing on her. Then, you appeared and the rest is history."

"I knew that they didn't have the best of relationships early on but I didn't know the extent of it, until now." Harry narrowed his eyes, thinking of his Hermione being treated like that by the bastard red-head. "I have a strong urge to go and split his skull."

Lily looked alarmed. "Harry! You can't do that!"

Harry frowned. "You're right. I should cut his head off and put it next to Neville's. After all, Neville got his placed there for daring to hurt Hermione, and Ron has committed the same offense."

Lily shook her head. "Harry, if you do that it will only anger the Order more. They are already upset that you are keeping a Death Eater prisoner here and refuse to turn him over to the Aurors. Especially after Mad Eye's death!"

"Well, if I turned Dolohov over to them, I couldn't add his head to my collection either," Harry pointed out. "When I'm done making him pay for his crimes that is. And it was Barty who killed Moody, not Dolohov. Besides that, they took plenty of prisoners of their own, they can let me have mine."

It was true. The Battle of Department of Mysteries was a crushing blow to Voldemort and a resounding victory for the Order and the Ministry. Seven of Voldemort's top lieutenants had been taken that night, six by the Aurors and one by Harry. Lucius Malfoy, Gregory Goyle Sr., Vincent Crabbe Sr., Kellen Travers, Nils Parkinson and Ludwig Jugson were all taken in and now resided in Ministry holding cells, several of them awaiting transfer to Azkaban, or so Kingsley had said. Harry found the dark-skinned Auror much more forthcoming than his father or godfather.

"I punish those who harm the ones I care about. I killed Bellatrix LeStrange because she killed Jimmy, my _brother_. Would you expect me to just let the man who tried to kill my _lover_ walk free?" Harry was on his feet now. "You cared about Jimmy, and I know that you would have acted the same had our places been switched. You also care about Hermione, so you can stow that false indignation. I know you wish the man dead as much as I do. You just don't have the stomach to make him suffer first. I do."

Harry made for the door.

"Hermione told me that you visited Jimmy's grave," Lily said, stopping him short.

Harry took a steadying breath as he thought of his brother again. He had been able to feel less guilty since Hermione had come back into his life, but he still carried the burden of his death, regardless. "I did."

"She also tells me that you altered the headstone."

Harry nodded, still not looking back at her. "I did."

"He always hated his full name. James insisted on it though. I am grateful that you did right by Jimmy." Harry could hear her voice catch as she said his name. "He adored you, you know. Even though he only knew you for a short time, he looked up to you, and in turn you took care of him." She was crying now.

Harry sighed, still staring at the door in front of him. "Don't cry, mother." He turned around and went to her side, dropping to one knee beside her chair. "I miss him too."

"You're right, you know," she said between sobs. "I would have killed her, too, had I been there. Does that make me a bad person, Harry?"

Harry snorted. "You are hardly a bad person, Mum. To kill in retaliation is not a sin. It is what should be done. It is the purest act of love, to kill or die for someone. If that makes one a bad person, then I am one, and then some." He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Fear not, mother, you are not the monster your son is."

"You aren't a monster, Harry," Lily protested.

Harry smirked. "I would beg to differ, as would the twenty-four men and women I have killed...and that's just the one's I know the identities of." He chuckled, which more than confirmed his words. Only a monster would laugh at the fact that he had killed so many that he couldn't remember all of their names. Oh, but he remembered their faces.

"Well, no matter what you may do, or what others may say of you, I will always see you as my son, nothing more, nothing less," Lily said, wiping her eyes. "That's all I've ever seen you as. My little boy..."

Harry shook his head, feeling a bit uncomfortable.

"I didn't believe a word of it when it came out that James was saying that you killed Jimmy," she continued. "For all that you have done, I know you didn't have that in you. You can deny it all you want, but you never killed children."

Harry nodded. "They have not had the time to do anything to deserve such a fate." He stood and ran his only had through his hair. "Now, I have business to attend to down in my pit."

Lily said nothing more as Harry left the room. He descended the stairs again heading straight for the basement, ignoring the looks he received from Ron and Ginny, who were coming out of the parlour as he stepped off of the staircase. He could feel their dark, hard stares on his back the whole time it took for him to reach the door to the basement and disappear within.

The basement was dark, cold and damp, and Harry felt right at home as soon as he felt the darkness surround him. The only light came from an enchanted window high on the back wall of the underground chamber which allowed sunlight, moonlight or starlight to shine through, as the case may be, but when opened revealed only earth and stone. It was clever magic, in a similar fashion to the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall at Hogwarts.

Hogwarts was another problem he had pondered over in the many hours sat at Hermione's side, and before that in the darkness beneath Godric's Hollow. The Horcruxes remained there, stored away, hidden within Dumbledore's desk. He would have to find a way to get into the school and retrieve them at earliest chance, preferably after Hermione was back on her feet. He did not like the thought of leaving her with only the Order to watch her. It was a wonder that the Order had not discovered the Horcruxes already, what with McGonagall being appointed the new Headmistress. It had also not taken her long to find a replacement for Snape either, calling back from retirement the esteemed Horace Slughorn, who had taught Harry's mother as well as his father, godfather and Remus; also Wormtail and Voldemort himself but that was beside the point. Actually, thinking about it, Slughorn had taught most of the Order and the Death Eaters alike. He may just have to pay the man a visit and see if he had some insight to give; what more he could give, though, Harry didn't know, as it had been his memories that set them on the proper path to hunting the way to kill Voldemort.

Harry stepped off the final step down onto the earthen floor of the basement. Dolohov was chained to a rigid chair in the center of the room and a beam of sunlight fell across him from the back, casting his face and chest into shadow. As Harry entered, Bill and Charlie stepped out of the shadows on either side of the bruised and bloodied prisoner like ghosts appearing through fog.

"Has he said anything else?" Harry asked, crouching down in front of Dolohov.

"Not a peep," Bill answered, rubbing his bruised knuckles absentmindedly with a faraway look in his eyes.

"It would seem," Charlie added, "that he is beginning to understand that no information he can give us will save his life."

Harry smirked. "Good. Let's hope that he also understands the gravity of his actions." He reached out and slapped Dolohov across the cheek with his remaining hand, waking the man from the light sleep he had fallen into. "Hello again, Antonin, how are you this morning?" The fact that it was actually the afternoon was not of any importance and thus was not addressed.

Dolohov glared weakly. He would have spat at Harry, had his body had enough fluid left to produce saliva. Harry had ordered that he only be given one scrap of bread and one glass of water a day. Just enough to keep him from dying of thirst or starvation. Oh, he would be in terrible pain as his body twisted and cried for sustenance but he would not snuff out on them.

"So, last time we talked, you were telling me about a new addition to the Malfoy family. However, you lost consciousness before you could give me the details. Please, tell me what you know and I'll let you have some food and drink." Harry raised an expectant brow.

Dolohov nodded slowly after a long moment, peering out through swollen eyes.

Harry smirked. "Bill, bring our guest here some water if you would."

Bill did as he was asked and held the glass while Dolohov drank greedily from it. When he was finished he sighed, breathing fast and heavy.

"Talk," Harry said. "Tell me all of it and I'll make sure you are given more."

"Draco..." Dolohov said, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Draco..."

"What about Draco?" Harry asked.

"Draco..." Dolohov seemed to be having trouble ordering his thoughts. "Draco...fathered..."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Draco fathered a child?"

Dolohov nodded. "Yes...Draco fathered...a son...Scorpius..."

Harry nodded. "Who is the mother?"

"Mother..." Dolohov coughed weakly. "Mother...is...Parkinson...Pansy...She had to...leave Hogwarts...because of it..."

Harry rubbed his chin thoughtfully. That made some sense. Pansy had disappeared without a word half-way through the school year and had not returned. He had heard rumors that she was kept in a private chamber at Malfoy Manor and now Harry knew why.

So, Draco had gone and sired a little bastard. Unless he had opted to wed Pansy to legitimize the child. Harry couldn't see Draco doing something like that, but he _could_ see Lucius and Narcissa insisting on it to avoid a scandal.

Harry's mother had been correct when she said that he had never killed a child, but most people didn't seem to realize that and he could use the boy to gain some leverage within the Death Eater camp. Threaten the boy's life and he could control Pansy and Narcissa; Lucius and Draco now shared a cell at the Ministry to await a trial that would be continually postponed until the Task Force was done with them; the rest of those captured would be tried and carted off to Caer Azkaban.

It was interesting to think of the place. According to what he had read of the place, it had been the home of the Dark Wizard Ekrizdis in the fifteenth century, who had hidden the island and fortress from the eyes of muggle and magical alike. In his isolation he had practiced all manner of dark magic and eventually gone insane but even in his insanity he practiced dark arts, being known for luring muggle sailors to his island, capturing them and torturing them for weeks on end before they died. There was some argument amongst scholars that Ekrizdis had invented the Cruciatus Curse, but there was no conclusive evidence to support this.

Azkaban had been discovered following Ekrizdis' death and his concealment charms faded. The Ministry had sent Aurors to investigate and found the island already inhabited by Dementors. The details of all that was found in this investigation was thoroughly suppressed and they had considered destroying the fortress, but this idea had been discarded in fear of retaliation from the Dementors and for some reason unspecified, they feared that the island itself would punish them if they tried. Harry suspected that there was something else there that was known only to the Ministry but could not hazard a guess as to what it was.

It was Damocles Rowle, Minister for Magic from 1718-1726, who had been the one to convert Azkaban into a prison for magicals, as the smaller facilities they had been using before were too difficult to maintain and keep hidden from muggles. He had argued that the Dementors could be used to their advantage as they did not require payment, sleep or provisions and therefor would cut costs and allow them to focus their manpower elsewhere as needed.

Right now, Harry suspected that Dolohov would have rather been in Azkaban than here. Harry had read up on Ekrizdis and found a few of his non-magical torture methods to be interesting. Maybe he could try a few of them out on Dolohov here.

"Thank you for the information, Antonin," Harry said. He looked at Bill and Charlie. "Get him on his feet."

Bill and Charlie moved almost as one, unlatching the chains from the chair and hauling the prisoner to a standing position. Harry took the ends of the chains and tossed them up and over a strong wooden beam that supported the ceiling, a rafter of sorts. He handed the two chains to Bill and Charlie and instructed them to pull them as hard as they could.

Dolohov was hauled up off of his feet by the chains under his ribs. He groaned as the metal dug into his bones.

Harry then conjured several long nails. He grasped one of Dolohov's feet and pressed one of the nail between the bones of the foot and forced it through the flesh, using magic to steady the foot in lieu of having a second hand. Dolohov cried out as the nail went through his flesh but Harry made sure that it didn't puncture all the way through; he waited until he could see the point poking the skin on the top of the foot, then pulled back a bit. He did this three more times until there were four nails through his foot.

He then had the brothers lower him until the head of the nails were just brushing the floor enough to push them up further. Dolohov instinctively lifted his knees up to keep his feet from the floor to avoid the stabbing pain.

Harry smirked. This would only make things worse for him. With his muscles contracted like that, it would put extreme pressure on not just the legs but also the abdomen. Soon, they would start to hurt and burn, then eventually their strength would fail and his legs would fall down, the weight pulling them further than they would normally go when just hanging, driving the nails all the way through. It would be painful, very painful, and every movement of the foot would irritate the nails and tissue, causing even more pain. And once the pain stopped bothering him, they would switch to the other foot.

Already Dolohov's face was screwed up in pain as his muscles protested their forced tenseness on top of the pain of having four long nails in his foot. It wouldn't be long now. He was already weak and drained from lack of sleep and proper nourishment.

As he expected, Dolohov's muscles gave out only a few short minutes later and his legs came crashing down and with a _thump_ his feet hit the floor and all four nails stabbed up through the top of his foot, piercing and tearing the tender flesh there. The scream that escaped him was loud enough to be heard upstairs, he was sure, but soon turned into whimpers and hisses.

Harry smirked. He looked at Charlie. "When he stops that whinging, give the nails a good little tap." He conjured a hammer and handed it to the grim redhead, who nodded. Harry also looked at Bill. "Give him a bit of water and some bread later. A bit more than before. I'm a man of my word, after all." He started toward the stairs. "And for the love of the gods, don't him bleed out."

"Perhaps some Blood Replenishing Potions, then?" Bill called back.

Harry paused and thought about it. It would mean he could drain the man and let him teeter near death, then bring him back from the brink. "I'll see what I can do," he called to them as he resumed his march back upstairs.

He closed the door to the basement behind him and found himself with several pairs of eyes on him. He met them all blankly, giving no outward sign that they were bothering him. "What?"

Arthur, who was standing with his wife and other children, minus the twins and the eldest two, stepped forward. "Harry, we need to talk."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Then talk."

Arthur sighed and ran a hand over his thinning hair. "I, that is we, my wife and I, and my children, we don't think that this is a safe place for us anymore."

"So you're leaving," Harry guessed. "You are going to just turn your back on the fight against Voldemort?"

Arthur shook his head. "No, Harry. We aren't leaving the fight, just this house. I know you are on our side but I can't, in good conscience, let my family be party to torture and murder."

Harry snorted. "It's a bit late for that, Arthur. Your sons have been helping me since we captured Dolohov. Your family is involved whether you want it or not. But if it will help you sleep at night, by all means, return to your home and pretend this is all just a bad dream."

"Those are no children of mine," Molly all but snarled. "No son of mine would do what they are doing! No child of mine would have cursed me like William did!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Would you quit playing the victim, you mad cow." Molly visibly recoiled at Harry's insult. "What did you think would happen if you kept pushing Bill? Did you think that he would suddenly just say you were right and divorce is wife? If you believed that then you are more than mad, you are _stupid_."

Molly glared white-hot daggers at him and her hand moved as if to go for her wand, but Arthur stopped her by grabbing her arm. "Molly, no! You remember what he did to Neville and Severus."

"He hasn't got that damned arm, now," Molly pointed out.

"And from what you told us, he got thoroughly thrashed by Barty Crouch Jr," Ginny pointed out, looking at her father and Percy.

Harry smiled. "A mistake on my part. One I shall not be making again." He turned away from them. "If you are going, then go. If not, stay out of my way. I'll not hear anymore in regards to what happens down there," he pointed at the basement. "You can't stop it and I will kill anyone who tries. He deserves what is happening to him. End of discussion."

He climbed back up the stairs, hearing the sound of the floo flaring to life as he reached the second floor landing.

He reentered his and Hermione's room on the topmost floor to find her sitting up in the bed, his ritual book propped open on her lap and Crookshanks purring contently beside her.

She looked up sharply at the sound of the door opening. "Harry," her face split into a smile. "I was wondering where you were." Her expression grew dimmer. "I heard a scream, is everything okay?"

Harry nodded, sitting on the edge of the bed, one hand going to her forehead, brushing her chestnut locks aside to feel her warm flesh. "It was nothing. Just Dolohov."

Hermione's smile fell away completely. "He's still alive?"

Harry nodded again. "He is. For now."

"What are you doing to him?" Hermione asked after a moment of hesitation.

Harry looked into her eyes and saw a fire there. "Making his suffer for what he did to you." He had only told her before that he had taken him prisoner and was keeping him in the basement. "You should be sleeping."

Hermione frowned. "I've been doing little else for days now, Harry. I'm getting sick of looking at nothing but these four walls and the back of my own eyelids." She sighed. "So, you're torturing the man?"

Harry paused, then nodded. He wasn't in the habit of hiding things from her anymore. "I am."

"Cruciatus?" she asked lowly.

He shook his head. "Nothing so simple. Besides, if you hold the curse too long it can cause the mind to shut down and they no longer feel any pain. You remember the Longbottoms. That's what happened to them when Barty and I cursed them."

Hermione's eyes drifted to his once-again missing arm at the mention of Barty. "He did this to you," she said, reaching up to touch the empty sleeve hanging at his side. "Why did you let him hurt you so much?"

Harry shrugged. "I guess I still held some sentiment for him. He was my best friend, Hermione. My brother. That bond doesn't just go away. I guess he felt the same because he could have done so much worse, to all of us."

Hermione nodded, her eyes a bit misty. "He tortured you," she whispered. "He only stopped when I said you were his brother. It was like for a moment he hadn't realized what he was doing."

Harry nodded. "I remember," he said, those words carrying more meaning than just to say he recalled the recent events.

Hermione heard the emphasis and cocked her head at him curiously.

Harry sighed. "You remember the nightmare I had?" Hermione nodded. "I remember it all."

Hermione sat up a little straighter in her bed, her eyes widening a little. "Tell me."

Harry swallowed, reliving it all again. The pain and agony, and Barty's words echoing in his ears. "I was being tortured with the Cruciatus. By Voldemort. I could hear him laughing, and my own screams. The screams of a child..."

Hermione's hands went to her mouth in shock. "No.."

Harry scoffed. "I had thought it to be a memory, possibly, and Barty all but confirmed it later while we were dueling. He talked about being the one to nurse me back to health as a child when the Dark Lord would torture me in my cell. There's a dungeon beneath Malfoy Manor, and I used to sleep in a cellar near them. I passed by those cells every day and never once remembered what had taken place there. I had no idea. I always knew that I had no memories before the day I killed Walburga Black. I just assumed it was because nothing of note had really happened before then. I guess I was wrong about that."

Hermione had tears running down her cheeks now, so Harry reached up and wiped them away with his thumb. Hermione laughed. "You're the one remembering traumatic experiences. I should be comforting _you_ ," she said. "Instead it's the other way around."

Harry smiled. "Yeah. Then again, I'm used to suppressing my emotions and fighting through the pain."

Hermione nodded. "I think that may be why you didn't remember anything. Your mind may have suppressed the memories in order to protect you. I've heard of things like that happening in the muggle world."

Harry shrugged. "It's possible. Or they could have been magically blocked, since they only came back after the removal of the Dark Mark. Either way, it explains where my hatred for Voldemort stems from. I guess he at least waited until I was no longer an infant before torturing me. There is that at least."

Hermione leaned over and wrapped her arms around him. "No child deserves that," she whispered. " _You_ didn't deserve that."

Harry embraced her with his one good arm. "It doesn't matter now," he murmured against her hair. "It's in the past, therefor it is dead. All I can do now is learn from it. And it didn't tell me much of anything I didn't already know. I already knew I harbored ill feelings toward Voldemort, now I know where they started."

"I still wish you hadn't had to suffer so," Hermione whispered back. "Do you ever wonder what your life would have been like if things were different?"

Harry had his eyes closed. "Hm? What do you mean?"

"Like..." Hermione sighed. "Like if Voldemort had never attacked your parents? Or if they hadn't retreated? What do you think would have happened if they had tried to fight longer or went back for you before leaving?"

Harry thought for a moment. "I suspect that they would have died. And, had that happened and for some reason Voldemort didn't kidnap me...well, I couldn't even begin to guess how different things would have been." He sighed and rubbed her back comfortingly. "It matters little, anyway. I see no point in looking back anymore; I'm not going that way."

Hermione hummed and cuddled closer to him. "Eyes on the horizon, Granger." She smiled. "That's what my grandfather used to say. He was a sailor in the Queen's Navy. Fought in both Great Wars aboard the HMS Harmony... Eyes on the horizon, Granger..."

Harry smiled. "He sounds a wise man."

Hermione nodded. "He was. He died a few years ago, though. He was old. _Very_ old. Ninety-five years old. I was very sad to see him go..." She trailed off, thinking of her departed relative.

Harry hugged her close. "Do not cry for the dead, love. They are in a much better place than we are. Instead, cry for the living, who have to go on without them."

Hermione sniffled and rubbed her face against his chest. "How do you always know what to say?" she asked.

Harry chuckled. "I don't. I just say what I feel or think."

Hermione laughed quietly and seemed to be dozing off again. Harry gently laid her back against the pillows, pulling the covers up over her. He smoothed her hair down a bit and tucked some stray strands behind her ear.

"I want to go and see my parents," she said, opening her eyes to look at him. "I miss them. I haven't seen them since Christmas and after all that has happened and what's still to come, I want them to know that I love them. Just in case..."

Harry frowned. "You aren't going to die, Hermione. I won't allow it."

Hermione smiled up at him, her eyes shining. "I believe you, Harry, but even you can't control death."

"I can try," Harry countered.

Hermione reached over and took his hand in her. "I don't plan on dying, Harry. But, then again, no one ever does, do they?" She sighed. "I just want to say it to them while I can."

Harry exhaled solemnly. "All right. We'll go as soon as you are able to walk again."

Hermione looked up at him hopefully. "You'll go with me?"

Harry nodded. "I will. I know I had reservations about it before, but I can do this, for you. I know it's important to you; and if it's important to you, it's important to me, too."

A few tears fell from Hermione's eyes. "Thank you, Harry." She was smiling so widely and gratitude shone brightly in her eyes. "I love you, Harry," she told him softly.

Harry leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead. "I love you too, Hermione." He stood and adjusted the blankets again. "Get some more rest, love. The sooner you get better, the sooner you'll be able to see your parents again."

Hermione nodded, smiling and settled back against the pillows, her eyes falling closed. Soon, her breathing evened out and she was asleep once more.

Harry took the ritual book from where it lay on the bed beside her and placed it back on the bedside table before leaving the room again.

He didn't know how he felt about going into the muggle world but he could not deny Hermione the right to visit her parents. They were her family and she loved them and they apparently loved her in return. It was so much different to his own family life and he was honestly curious as to how a proper family interacted.

He paused on the stairs when he passed a mirror and caught sight of his reflection. He had seen it before, of course, but he actually took the time to study himself now. His dark hair was long and fell around his shoulders, framing his face. His beard, usually shaven, was nice and thick, but still somewhat short by Wizarding standards; memory called up images of Dumbledore and Karkaroff, both of whom had distinctive facial hair. It made him look older, more matured...more dangerous. He decided that he liked it and would keep it; maybe neaten it up a bit, but beyond that, he would not bother with it.

He found himself wondering what sort of impression Hermione's parents would have of him. He was certain that they did not know about his background, if they knew of him at all; if they did, he was entirely certain that they would not want him anywhere near their daughter.

He discarded the feeling of trepidation at the thought and continued down the stairs. He went down to the basement again in time to see Charlie give the nails in Dolohov's foot a solid whack with the hammer. Dolohov screamed.

"So," Harry started, "Your family seems to have grown weary of this place."

Bill frowned from where he was sitting, reading by candlelight at an old wooden table off to the side. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"They left," Harry said, conjuring a chair for himself to sit in. Charlie came over and sat down as well. "Arthur said that he didn't feel that this house was safe for his family and wanted no part of what we were doing here."

"So, they would abandon the fight against Voldemort?" Charlie asked, ignoring the slight flinch from Bill at the name. Charlie, Harry found, had no fear of speaking the name, as the rest of his family did. Bill wasn't as bad as the others, thanks to how much time he spent with Charlie and could say the name but still flinched when hearing it.

Harry shrugged. "They say that they aren't, but it is hard to say. I have noticed that James, Sirius and Remus have been spending less time here as well, while my mother has practically moved in."

"Tonks has been around as normal," Bill pointed out.

Charlie nodded. "Bill and I have rooms here as well, and Fleur stays with Bill. And I heard from Fred and George yesterday."

"Seems it's just the older Order members who are staying away now," Bill continued. "I guess Harry's methods are a bit too much for them." His own voice held just a hint of something that told Harry that such things were a bit extreme to him too, but he wasn't backing down from it, and Harry respected him for that.

Harry waved his hand dismissively. "This is a war. They need to start acting like it. War requires sacrifice and more than that it requires the ability to do what must be done. Morality has no place in war."

Charlie nodded in agreement. "I've been fighting this war since I got out of school. I may have been working with Dragons in Romania, but not all battles are fought in the open. You know that as well as I, Harry."

Harry didn't refute that. It was all too true. "Indeed I do."

"That's why I'm sticking with you," Charlie said. "You know what has to be done to finish this once and for all. Not to mention that you stood by my brother when my mother was attacking his wife. For all that my mother likes to claim that she doesn't buy into the pureblood dogma, she only hates Fleur because she is Quarter-Veela and she doesn't like the thought of her eldest breeding with an 'inhuman creature'. Her words, not mine. Did you know that she refused to be at the wedding? Dad, Ron, Ginny and Percy want to join her, I could care less. I haven't felt like a part of this family in a long time. I know Bill, Fred and George feel the same, if to different extents."

Harry nodded. "Well, then I guess it won't bother you to hear that she said she didn't consider either of you her sons anymore."

Charlie sighed. "No, it doesn't bother me."

Bill looked a bit sad but nodded. "Nor me."

"Well, we're all in the same boat then. Families that want nothing to do with us." Harry clapped Bill on the shoulder. He would have done the same to Charlie, but he only had one arm and Bill was sitting to his right.

"Oi! Anyone down here?" a voice called down the stairs.

"What is it, Nymphadora?" Harry called back up to her.

Harry heard a curse about some 'damned bastard' not being afraid of her and calling her by her full name before the young Auror, her hair a deep purple and shoulder-length today, came bouncing down the stairs, only to trip on the last one and fall flat on her face, as per usual.

She groaned while the three men just shook their heads at her clumsiness.

Charlie stood up and went to her and helped her back to her feet. "You all right, Tonks?"

She dusted herself off with a huff. "Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. First that evil troll leg and now the bloody stairs." She looked up and saw Dolohov hanging from the rafters, a small pool of blood on the ground beneath him. "Bloody hell!"

Harry followed her gaze and cursed. "I forgot to get the Blood Replenishing Potions."

Bill frowned. "He's not dead is he?"

Charlie, who was still standing picked up the hammer and tapped the nails again. Dolohov jolted and cried out. "Nope," the second eldest Weasley son announced with a little too much glee.

Nymphadora, who had not seen the Death Eater since they dragged him down the stairs immediately after getting back from the Ministry, gaped at the battered and bloodied man. "What have you all done to him?"

Harry looked at the prisoner. "I would think that that was obvious."

Nymphadora shot him a glare and huffed. "Yes, it's obvious that you have been torturing him, but why?" She froze and then apologized. "Sorry, Harry. That was a stupid question. How is Hermione doing, by the way?"

Harry waved off her apology. "She's getting better. I think a few more days and she'll be back on her feet like normal."

Nymphadora smiled. "That's good. Now, what were you saying about Blood Replenishing Potion?"

Harry pointed at Dolohov. "We need the potions to keep him from bleeding out and dying on us before I'm done with him. As a matter of fact, I think we should go ahead and take care of that. Kreacher! Dobby!"

With two consecutive _pop_ s, the two House Elves appeared in the basement. "Master called Kreacher?" Kreacher asked, bowing low.

Dobby bowed too. "What can I's be doing for Mr. Harry Potter Sir?"

"Are there any Blood Replenishing Potions in the house, Kreacher?" Harry asked the old House Elf.

Kreacher shook his head. "No, master. The Blood Traitor took all of Master's potions, except those required by mistress Hermy."

Harry frowned. "When did he take them?"

Kreacher frowned. "Yesterday, master. I did not stop him because you told Kreacher to not bother with the blood traitor."

"Well, I should have known you'd take my command so literally. All right. Get them back, if you can. Dobby, I want you to go to Diagon Alley and purchase some more. Only Blood Replenishing, okay? Kreacher, you take back everything Sirius stole. And let me know where he took them, please."

"Yes, master," Kreacher bowed and vanished.

"How much is Mister Harry Potter Sir wanting Dobby to be buying?" Dobby asked.

Harry thought. He looked at Charlie and Bill. "A few weeks, you think?"

Charlie looked at Dolohov. "I'd say so, yeah. I mean, we aren't going to be continuously bleeding him so that should be plenty."

"Get enough to last at least three weeks," Harry told Dobby, who bowed and vanished as well.

Nymphadora was flabbergasted. "A few _weeks,_ " she squeaked.

Harry smirked. "Oh, that's just if we were going to be just cutting him or something. No, I've got so much more than that in mind for Mr. Dolohov here." He looked at the two Weasleys. "I think, after we do the other foot, we start breaking bones."

Charlie rubbed his bearded chin. "Start with the toes and work our way up."

Nymphadora looked between them all with shock. "You've got to be joking! This is...this is _illegal_ in so many ways. Kidnapping, unlawful imprisonment, assault, abuse, torture, premeditated murder! The list goes on!"

Harry wasn't fazed. "This is war, Nymphadora."

"And how does torturing this man aid the war effort?" she countered.

Harry shrugged. "You could ask him the same thing. He's tortured countless _innocents._ I'm returning the favor. Besides, he harmed my beloved, and I will not let that go unpunished. He's and _example_. As was Neville."

"I...I.." she seemed lost for words. "I won't take part in this!"

Harry smiled genially. "I'm not asking you to. I merely ask that you don't stand in our way. You are a valued member of our team, Nymphadora. I would hate to lose you over this." He tried his best to not make that sound like a threat; he mostly succeeded.

Nymphadora sighed. "I'm not leaving, Harry. I may not agree with everything you are doing but...in for a penny, in for a pound, right?"

Harry nodded. "That's the spirit. I find our numbers dwindling after what happened at the Ministry and because of all of this," he gestured to Dolohov. "The Weasleys, except these two, left earlier. Sirius, James and Remus have not been around much either and apparently have no intention of coming back if the fact that Sirius stole from the house yesterday. That's already half the Order right there. I'm sure Kingsley will be joining them, as will McGonagall."

"Hagrid too, no doubt," Bill added. "He's too gentle for this sort of work. He'll go with those who seek to take the high road."

"It would seem the Order is splintered," Charlie agreed. "We have only a few left here with us. Us here; Hermione and Lily; Fred and George, possibly; Fleur; Luna and Xenophilius...and that's it."

Nymphadora nodded solemnly. "I'm gonna go look in on Hermione," she said, climbing the stairs and leaving the men to themselves.

"She's not the only one opposed to this," Bill said. "Fleur hates it. She looks at my knuckled and cries. She doesn't say anything, but she doesn't have to. I don't like it much either, but I'll do what I have to."

Harry shook his head. "You don't have to be a part of this, Bill. Charlie and I can handle it."

Charlie nodded, giving his older brother a sympathetic look. "He's right, Bill. You can go assure your wife that you aren't going to be doing this. It's a nasty business."

Bill smiled weakly. "How did you get so good at this stuff, Charlie?"

Charlie shrugged. "I did odd jobs like this for Dumbledore and Aberforth over the years. Most people don't seem to realize that Dumbledore was not all light. He was once best friends with Grindelwald. He knew that sometimes the best way to do things was to get your hands dirty. At his age though, he wasn't as good as he used to be, so he approached me one day and asked if I could do it. I admit, it took several times for me to not be sick afterward. Now, it's all procedure and habit."

Bill looked sad. "I'm sorry you had to do this sort of thing."

Charlie shook his head. "I'm not. I mean, I don't really enjoy doing it, but it's helped me accept the horrors of war and taught me how to set aside my morals to do what had to be done."

"Who did you do this sort of thing to before?" Harry asked, curious.

Charlie shrugged. "Most I don't even remember their names. Just low ranking Death Eaters we managed to capture. Though, I once had a session with Sirius' brother Regulus. Sirius didn't know."

Harry sat up a bit. "You tortured Regulus?"

Charlie nodded. "Once. And only for a short time. Dumbledore came in shortly after and took him away. He said later that he died. Never saw a body but never saw him alive again either."

Harry nodded. "Sounds about right. He went missing a few years back. Just disappeared out of the blue. Rumor was that the Dark Lord had him killed. Now, it seems it was actually the Order that did the deed. It's a pity. I liked Regulus. He was good man, almost as much a brother to me as Barty."

Charlie sighed. "It would seem that good men don't last long in this world anymore. So, what's it gonna be, Bill? You washing your hands of this?"

Bill nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess I am. I'm sorry, Charlie."

Charlie dismissed his apology. "Don't think of it. We don't think any less of you."

Harry nodded. "Your brother is right, Bill. You do what you have to do."

Bill smiled tightly. "Thanks." He stood up and walked up the stairs, leaving just Charlie and Harry sitting down in the dark.

Kreacher popped back into the room a few minutes later. "Kreacher has returned with potions, Master." He laid all of the potions out on the table for them to see. They was keeping them at the Weasee house."

"The Burrow?" Charlie frowned. "So, it would seem that Order Headquarters has been officially moved."

"Yes," Kreacher agreed. "Blood traitor, werewolf and Master's father were all there too. As was giant and cat lady. And the dark man."

Harry shook his head. "Well, if they want to go off on their own, I won't stop them. But, I won't save them either."

Charlie just nodded grimly, knowing that his family was well and truly broken now.

 **XXXX**

 **A/N: Welcome to the second half of Part One! We return from our 'mid-season finale' and now it's another chapter down. Harry's showing his dark side again. As you can see, not everyone is okay with it, but they aren't going to turn their backs on Harry either. In for a penny, in for a pound and all that.**

 **You can thank the rather dark nature of this to the fact that I've been almost exclusively listening to Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds for the past several weeks. I just find that Nick Cave's ****imagery and atmosphere inspires me. His music is truly beautiful, even at its most dark and disturbing. For anyone who doesn't know his music, he contributed the song 'O Children' to the Deathly Hallows Part One film, in which it played during that truly beautiful Harry/Hermione dance scene. Check him and his band out! I highly recommend.**

 **Well, let me know what you all think. I love reading your reviews.**

 **Until next time.**

 **-Atrocity.**


	30. What Must Be Done

**XXX. What Must Be Done**

Harry smiled as Hermione stepped off the stairs and into the parlour. The color had returned to her flesh, leaving it that smooth, pale cream color that Harry found so irresistible; and less like the pallid hue of one standing on Death's doorstep with their hand on the bell.

She returned the smile, practically glowing with joy as she closed the distance between them and went eagerly into his embrace. Her arms snaked around his neck and his hands caressed her hips gently as their lips met in a slow, sensual, mind-fogging, toe-curling kiss.

Hermione hummed in a satisfied manner as they pulled apart slowly, licking her lips and gazing up at him with eyes so dark Harry felt he could easily fall into them and call it home. "I want you," she purred, her hands roaming from his neck and down his chest, blazing a steady trail toward his belt.

Harry chuckled. "While I admire your enthusiasm at being fully recovered, we do have an appointment to keep, if you recall."

Hermione didn't seem to hear him, her nimble fingers undoing his belt within seconds. "They can wait a little longer," she asserted as she began working on the buttons of his pants.

Harry let out a groan as her hand rubbed again him and closed his eyes against her ministrations. She smirked at the obvious effect her light caress was having on him.

"Fine!" he breathed when she didn't let up. "Blimey, Hermione, you are insatiable."

Hermione only nodded as she pulled him toward the sofa by the fire and shoved him down into a seated position, then climbed on top of him, straddling him. She leaned down and kissed him again, this time with an obvious hunger and ground her hips down against his, forcing yet another groan to escape from his lips.

"I've been cooped up in that bed alone for a week, Harry," she said, peppering his neck with small kisses. "Do you have any idea how much I need this?"

Harry gasped as she started grinding herself against him again. "I'm starting to, I think."

Hermione giggled and reached for the hem of her shirt, starting to pull it up over her head. Harry drank in the sight of her flawless skin and couldn't resist the urge to run his fingers over every inch of it. Hermione sighed happily as his hands found her breasts and teased them gently. Her own hands covered his for a moment as she continued to grind against him, then they drifted down between them, lifting her skirt so that she could get to the bits of him still hidden behind a layer of fabric...

Harry bolted upright in his bed, his body coated in sweat and his breathing fast and heavy. He looked down at himself, groaning at the reaction the dream had garnered from his body. He fell back onto his pillow with a sigh and tried his best to ignore it.

Hermione shifted next to him and moved closer to him, laying one of her arms across his chest and one of her legs curled up over his, lightly grazing his...issue. He jolted a bit in response and Hermione giggled quietly next to him. "Having some difficulties are we?" she teased, lifting her head up and laying it on his shoulder.

Harry sighed. "You could say that."

Hermione smiled at him and snuggled closer to him, her bare flesh moving against his did little to relieve the tension he was feeling. Then he all but jumped as Hermione grasped him and began slowly stroking.

"Hermione, what are you doing?" he asked.

She smiled wider. "Helping." She then sat up and climbed on top of him, positioning herself and then slowly sinking down onto him with a pleasant gasp.

"Hermione," Harry groaned, trying to remember why he was protesting.

"Shh," she hissed lightly, rocking her hips slow and smooth, making Harry's head fall back with a hiss. "I need this just as much as you."

 **XXXX**

An hour later, they were sated and left in a state of exhaustion and both fell back into slumber.

They awoke again when morning arrived and bathed, then dressed, donning their best non-formal clothes, which for Harry meant that he still looked ready go and visit the Queen should the need arise. As for Hermione, it was a plain white top with fitted jeans and a denim jacket, her hair tied back in a high ponytail with several strands left loose to frame her face. She had applied very light makeup, hardly noticeable unless one knew it was there.

Hermione was what Harry and Barty had always called a 'natural beauty'. She required no frills, no bells and whistles, nothing special at all to look her best. She just simply was. Whether Hermione herself knew this or not, she had never been one for makeup anyway so there was little to be said in that regard. She could wear it and define her features some, but as far as Harry was concerned, she didn't need it.

Harry had not realized it but he must have been staring because Hermione suddenly looked worried. "Is there something on my face?" She immediately checked herself in the mirror, finding nothing out of place but fretting nonetheless.

Harry shook his head, walking up behind her and wrapping his arm around her. "Not at all." He kissed her shoulder. "You are perfect."

Hermione closed her eyes and leaned back against him. "Are you nervous?" she asked.

Harry shrugged. "No more so than usual, I suppose. Not much scares me anymore."

"Except losing me, right?" she muttered.

Harry nodded. "Yeah. I swear my heart stopped when you fell. I have never been afraid that someone was dead before. Usually death doesn't bother me at all, but you...I can't lose you. I shudder to think what I would become without you." Memories of the boggart in the cave came unbidden to his mind, flashing violently through his thoughts.

"You won't lose me, Harry," she assured him. "Honestly, I fear more for losing you."

Harry frowned. "Why?"

Hermione looked at his reflection in the mirror, meeting his eyes in the glass. "You are at the center of all of this. The Prophecy...you know what it means."

Harry nodded. He had told Hermione the Prophecy when she was well enough to actually be awake long enough to hold a conversation. To say that she had been upset by it was an understatement. She had required an extra Calming Draught to soothe her.

"Only I can kill him," Harry said, tightening his hold. "And I can only kill him by destroying the Horcruxes."

"Which are still in Hogwarts," Hermione noted, following his train of thought.

"I'll need to get in there and get them out, soon. The last thing we need is McGonagall getting them first." He sighed. "The only problem is getting into the school and back out without getting caught."

Hermione had a thoughtful expression on her face. "You should go and see Fred and George," she said at last. "Those two were always up to no good at school, and yet always knew when a professor was coming. They also seemed to be able to sneak in and out of the school at a whim; usually to get Butterbeer for everyone in Gryffindor when they won a Quidditch match. Jimmy used to always brag about it..." Her voice trailed off sadly at the end. She missed him too. She took a breath and steadied herself. "Not only that, but they were the only ones who knew where the kitchens were located."

Harry rubbed her shoulder comfortingly. "You think they had something to help them with all of this?"

Hermione shrugged. "I wouldn't be surprised if they did."

Harry nodded. "I'll go see them when I get back from visiting your parents."

"I'll go with you," Hermione said.

Harry shook his head. "I thought I'd let you have a few days to yourself with your family. Things are going to get very hectic around here as soon as I get those Horcruxes. Once I destroy them, I'm moving on Voldemort. I want to end this before something happens to either of us."

Hermione reached up and grasped his hand that laid against the front of her shoulder, squeezing it. "Thank you, Harry."

Harry squeezed back. "You don't have to thank me..."

"All the same," she countered, "thank you."

Harry didn't respond, just kissed the side of her head softly, looking at the two of them reflected back, memorizing it...just in case. Unbeknownst to him, Hermione was doing the same.

 **XXXX**

Harry and Hermione walked down the stairs to the basement. Harry could hear the soft rattle of chains and the echo of Charlie's booted footfalls on the stone and earth floor. As before, a single column of sunlight spilled through the enchanted window, casting the hanging form of Dolohov into silhouette.

Hermione gasped when she caught sight of the man who had cursed her. He was bare-chested and barefooted, dressed in only a pair of torn breeches, the remains of what he had been wearing when they captured him. Charlie was off to the side by a wooden table, dressed in a simple pair of jeans and a plain dark t-shirt, he was looking over an array of sinister-looking instruments.

"How is he still alive?" she asked, looking at the blood on the floor, both fresh and dried.

Harry pointed to the Blood Replenishing Potions on the table. "We keep him from bleeding out with those potions. And we give him just enough food and water to not lose him to starvation. He also gets three hours of uninterrupted sleep a day."

"That's horrible," Hermione uttered softly, her hands coming up to her mouth.

"Yes, I quite agree. He doesn't need that much sleep."

Hermione gasped and looked at Harry in horror. "Harry!"

Harry looked at her worriedly. "You don't have to stay."

Hermione was shocked. "I'm _not_ leaving you!" she all but shouted. "How could you think that, after what we just discussed?"

Harry was a bit confused. "I just meant down here, Hermione. Not, you know, in general."

Hermione stood abashed. "Sorry," she muttered, flushing prettily.

Harry waved it off. "You can wait upstairs if you like."

Hermione shook her head. "No," she said quickly, then took a breath and said with more conviction, "No. I need to see this. I need to get used to this sort of violence if I'm to survive this war. What are those?" she asked, looking at the instrument in Charlie's hands.

"These," Charlie answered, holding them up, "are essentially a modified pair of muggle pliers." He grasped Dolohov's foot and clamped the pliers over the big toe. "They basically are used in one of two ways. You either take them and pull out the nail, causing great pain and a bit of bleeding, or," he squeezed and a loud snap was heard as Dolohov let out a loud cry, "you break the bone." He tossed the instrument aside, where it landed with a clatter on the table.

There was a noticeable difference between the Charlie before them and usual quiet, but friendly young man they were used to. Harry was getting used to this cold and calculated Charlie, having spent quite a few hours a day down here with him. Hermione was in awe and shock at the change.

"How long is this going to go on?" Hermione asked, looking a bit green.

Charlie shrugged. "We've only just begun. We're still on his feet. He's got so many more bones to break before his body can no longer handle the damage." He smiled. "Don't look so shocked. You think just anyone can handle a dragon? You've got to be cold and hard. Steadfast and unflinching. Else you'll die. Dragon Handlers are put through just as many tests as Aurors are to make sure they have what it takes to do the job. Just so happens that the same skills needed to handle dragons are also needed to torture and kill."

Hermione was beginning to see that there was a side to Charlie that no one, not even his family, had seen before. He kept it hidden so well behind the gentle guise of a dragon-obsessed, Quidditch-loving older brother. It was the same with Harry. He was a cold, ruthless killer, except where his loved ones were concerned. That's why he had not been able to fight his hardest against Barty at the Ministry. He loved him; he was his brother after all; their bond forged in the fires of battle and cooled in the blood of their enemies. It was not easily broken.

"I'll do the next toe tomorrow," Charlie told Harry, wiping his hands on a cloth he had conjured. "Give him some time with that one shooting pain through him every time he tries to move his feet."

Harry nodded. "I'll join you when I return. It should be later tonight. I've need to pay your brothers a visit at their shop before coming back. You can get some sleep then."

Charlie nodded. "All right. Be careful out there. _Both_ of you," he added, looking pointedly at Hermione, who was watching the expressions of pain flit across Dolohov's face with some form of morbid fascination, her analytical mind trying to determine just how much pain he might take before completely breaking.

Hermione tore her eyes away and smiled at Charlie's warning, knowing he wasn't trying to be mean to her in wake of her injury. Just concerned.

"Well, we have an appointment to keep," Harry sighed, holding out his hand for Hermione to take.

She took it firmly within her own, lacing their fingers together. "It's not an appointment, Harry. They don't even know we are coming."

Harry shrugged. "Beside the point."

Hermione shook her head as they went back up the stairs.

 **XXXX**

Dobby, with all of the exuberance of a small child, had happily volunteered to transport them to Hermione's family's home, citing Hermione's recent injury and Harry's as well as perfectly acceptable reasons why neither of them should expend the energy needed to apparate. Harry knew that he just wanted to have something to do besides dust the same surfaces again and again, and relented even though he himself was more than okay enough to apparate them both. But, since he did not know the exact location of the Granger household, Hermione would have been the one to apparate, not him, and Harry had to agree with Dobby that Hermione, while recovered, was at greater risk of hurting herself so soon after being relieved from bed rest.

Harry now found himself standing in the middle of a quiet muggle street, rows upon rows of houses, all of varying shape and size, stretched out around them and he could easily see the church down the way, standing tall and oppressive above the houses.

He looked at the street signs and read 'Heathgate' and 'Meadway'.

Harry decided then and there that he could never live in a place like this. It wasn't a problem with the houses or the streets or the people being muggles; no it was that it felt like living in the shadow of an unseen tyrant who was looking on with constant disapproval. Not that he believed in the god of Abraham or any of its incarnations, but it was the principle of the matter.

Hermione followed his gaze and frowned. Harry guessed that she was recalling their conversation at Hogwarts about the Burning Times. She had been quite appalled at the time and she looked a bit disconcerted now.

"That's St. Jude On-the-Hill Anglican Parish Church," she informed him.

Harry nodded. "How did you stand it? Living in the shadow of that place?"

Hermione shrugged. "It never really bothered me much. I'm not religious and never really paid it any mind. Now, I'm just trying not to think about it." She shivered despite there being no breeze and in the middle of summer.

Shaking it off, she approached the walkway that led from the street to the front door of her childhood home. There was a car parked against the curb so Harry assumed that that meant her parents were home.

Hermione didn't even bother to knock and instead opened the door and strode straight inside. Harry followed a step or two behind, pausing in the door way a moment as Hermione called out to her parents. "Mum! Dad! Are you in here?"

A female voice called back. "Hermione? Is that you?" The voice was followed by the appearance of a thin woman with hair much like Hermione's, though her eyes were hazel rather than chestnut brown like her daughter's. "Oh, honey, we weren't expecting you." She hurried forward and wrapped her arms around her daughter, smiling brightly.

Hermione hugged her back, tears forming in her eyes. "Oh, I missed you so much, mum," she said tremulously.

Her mother pulled back and beamed down at her. "We missed you too, dear." It was then that she spied Harry still standing in the doorway. "Who's this, Hermione?"

Hermione looked at Harry and wiped her eyes. "Mum, this is Harry Potter, my best friend...and boyfriend. Harry, this is my mother, Monica Granger."

Monica took in Harry's appearance, her eyes lingering on the empty sleeve hanging limply at his side, before smiling. "Oh, aren't you James and Lily's boy? The one who was a Professor? Has this something to do with Hermione's schooling? Wait, you said 'boyfriend'; oh, honey, please tell you that you haven't gone and gotten in trouble for having a relationship with a Professor! Oh! Hermione, please tell me you aren't pregnant!"

Harry chuckled, realizing that Monica had the same habit as her daughter to say too much when caught off guard. "It was a fairly recent development, I assure you, Mrs. Granger. Hermione was one of my best students, if not _the_ best. But, if it helps, I was only an _apprentice_ Professor. In any case, I am no longer employed at Hogwarts. And she isn't pregnant, as far as either of us know." Held out his hand to her with an easy smile. "It is a pleasure to meet you."

Monica returned the smile somewhat uncertainly but took his hand nonetheless while Hermione was getting her blush under control after what her mother had said. Mrs. Granger became flustered when Harry kissed the back of her hand briefly, like a proper gentleman. Pureblood etiquette and all that; he was falling back such habits to combat the almost-nervous edge he was feeling at being in unfamiliar territory.

"It's a pleasure to meet you too," Monica said after her shock wore off.

"Is dad here?" Hermione asked, shaking her head fondly at Harry's old fashioned manners.

"He's out back," Monica said. "Come, leave your coats and come have a seat in the parlour. I'll fetch your father."

Hermione helped Harry take off his topcoat and hung it on a hook for him and hung her denim jacket next to it, then took his hand as her mother led them into the parlour. Hermione sat both of them down on a cream-colored settee at her mother's bidding. She smiled happily at Harry while her mother went to the door to the back lawn and called out for her father to join them.

Wendell Granger was tall, at least compared to Harry, with short, barely greying brown hair and blue eyes; Harry absently remembered Hermione once saying that she had gotten her eye color from her grandmother on her mother's side. He smiled at his daughter, who stood and ran over to hug him tightly.

Watching the miniature reunion, Harry felt decidedly uncomfortable. He felt like he was spying on a private moment that he was not party to; it was a startlingly voyeuristic feeling. Hermione seemed to sense his tenseness because she broke the hug and went back to his side, taking his hand in hers and squeezing it.

"I'll get some tea," Monica said, leaving the room.

"Bring some honey, please, mum," Hermione called after her. "Harry prefers it over sugar."

Wendell followed his daughter's movements and narrowed his eyes at Harry, his wife having told him of their relationship when she had called him in from the back lawn. Harry stood up and extended his hand to Hermione's father, after disentangling it from Hermione's. "Harry Potter, sir, a pleasure to meet you."

Wendell's gaze lingered on the missing arm, just as his wife's had, but he shook Harry's hand after only a brief pause. "Wendell Granger. Harry, huh? Lily and James' eldest, right? Hermione's told us about you. Aren't you a professor at her school?"

Harry shook his head. "Not for some time now, sir. Things didn't work out." Which question this was an answer to was not elaborated on.

Wendell nodded and sat down on the sofa with his wife, who had just returned with a tray of tea and crumpets. Cups and saucers were passed around and Monica began buttering the crumpets for them all.

Harry carefully went through the process of adding milk and honey to his tea, having to pour the milk, set it down, stir, add the honey, set that down as well, stir, taste, add a bit more honey, stir, taste again and then enjoy, all with only one hand, which took him twice as long as everyone else, who had added milk and sugar respectively to theirs with relative ease and were already enjoying their tea by the time Harry had finishing adding the honey the first time.

He could feel everyone's eyes on him

He was not used to making his own tea anymore as Dobby usually just brought it to him already prepared to perfection. And only having one arm made the process longer than it should have been and he could feel a flush of embarrassment that was foreign to him.

Wendell was watching him – his poise and keen eyes gave no doubts as to where Hermione got it from – looking like he wanted to ask a question, but instead cleared his throat briefly and sipped his tea to keep himself distracted. Monica had an expression of sympathy, which was almost worse, as he could detect subtle hints of pity. He didn't need pity. He was just refraining from using magic in this decidedly non-magical setting.

"So, Harry, er, you are a Professor?" Wendell asked, trying his best not to look at the limp sleeve of Harry's shirt. "What exactly do you teach?"

Harry smiled tightly, even though this question had already been asked just moments ago. "I'm actually not a professor any more, Mr. Granger."

Wendell nodded. "Ah, right. You said that just a moment ago. Sorry." Harry knew he hadn't forgotten, he just wanted to see if Harry answered the same way twice.

Harry shook his head in a dismissive manner. "Don't worry about it. Anyway, I was an apprentice Professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts, under Remus Lupin."

Monica hummed as she was taking a sip of her tea. "I remember Mr. Lupin. We met him at Platform Nine and Three Quarters a few years ago, right?" She looked at Hermione for confirmation.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, mum. Third year, when he started. He's James and Lily's friend. Well, James' anyway." She sighed. "James and Lily's marriage hasn't been the same since Jimmy died. They've separated."

Monica gasped and looked shocked. "No! What happened?"

Hermione shrugged. "Some things came up when Harry came back. I don't really think it's proper to talk about it. I'm not one for gossip, mum, and neither are you."

Monica nodded slowly. "True. It's just so shocking. They always seemed to get on so well. I can understand how losing a child would put some strain on them though."

Harry nodded. "It was a bad time for us all." He pushed down the images that still haunted his dreams some nights.

Monica looked horrified with herself. "Oh, dear, I forgot. He was your brother."

Harry sighed. "Let's move to a different topic, please." He glanced at Hermione, who nodded in return.

"So, mum, how have things been here? I haven't seen either of you since Christmas." She smiled at her parents.

Monica smiled too, seeing what Hermione was doing. "Yes, it has been too long, dear. We are sorry that we couldn't come to your graduation. They told us that muggles weren't allowed to enter Hogwarts, even for such occasions."

Hermione bit her lip sadly. "I know. It's okay. It wasn't a very joyous affair anyway."

Wendell took a bite of his crumpet and swallowed. "I would expect not, what with the death of your Headmaster so recently."

Monica sighed and Hermione looked down at her tea cup before closing her eyes. Wendell looked between the two women with a moment of confusion, then a looked of dawning appeared and he swallowed. "Sorry. I didn't think before I spoke."

Harry shrugged. "It couldn't be helped." Whether he meant Wendell's slip-up or the death of Albus Dumbledore again went without being elaborated upon.

"So, Harry," Monica started, hoping to keep the conversation from such grim subjects. "What are you doing now that you are no longer a Professor? Did you find a new job?"

Harry shook his head. "I have not," he told them, noting that Wendell frowned. Harry knew what he was thinking. How could this man provide for his daughter if he was not working. "But I am not concerned with it. I have plenty of money to see myself and Hermione fed, clothed and with a roof over our heads. As I'm sure you know, my family is quite well off. And besides that, I have been saving my pay from Hogwarts this past year."

"So, what do you do with your time?" Wendell asked, still not convinced.

Harry shrugged, not sure he should reveal what he really did. He was more than certain that torture and murder were not acceptable answers to this question. "I spend a lot of time at my house, making sure everything is safe for Hermione to stay there. It was once owned by a distant relative of mine who dabbled in some very dark magic. I recently moved in and have been clearing it of undesirable infestations." He almost smirked at the thought that he had done just that in the removal of Sirius and his ilk, unintentional though it was.

"So, you have a house? Is it just you there?" Monica asked.

Hermione was the one who answered. "No. I moved in recently too. And Harry's mum has been living with us too, since, you know... Harry also has two House Elves, named Dobby and Kreacher. Dobby has been with Harry for years and Kreacher came with the house."

Monica gasped. "House Elves? You mean, Harry owns _slaves_?"

Hermione sighed and looked at Harry, seeing his confused expression at the unexpected reaction from Mrs. Granger.

"I had a phase where I wanted to free House Elves, or at least get them better rights. I even started an organization called the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare, or S.P.E.W.; I know, not the best acronym. It was short-lived though as I could get no one to support it, not even the Elves themselves."

Harry nodded. "I should think not. It isn't slavery, per sé. It's more reciprocal altruism. In return for services such as house-keeping and the like, the House Elf gains a boost in magic as well as an extended lifespan. If an Elf is unbonded, it will waste away and die within a span of a decade or so; two if they're lucky. They love working too. I mean, they literally love it. Dobby actually insisted on bringing us here today because he had already done everything he could for the house today and wanted something to do until it was time to prepare a meal for the household."

Wendell shook his head. "It still doesn't sit right with me, you know. It still sounds like slavery to me. I mean, they don't get paid!"

Harry's expression hardened and his eyes glinted dangerously before he could stop himself. "They get to live. That is payment enough. If more humans were more grateful for that simple gift I don't think our world would be in the sorry state it is."

Silence fell over the room for a moment and Hermione looked between Harry and her parents uncertainly. She knew Harry was not one to shy away from speaking his mind and Hermione herself was much the same, but Harry had a bluntness that Hermione's parents were not used to.

"Elves are still treated badly in most circles," Hermione said. "Harry isn't one of those that abuses his Elves. He actually has a good relationship with them, and I've grown to like them as well."

Harry set about trying to butter another crumpet for himself but was finding it rather difficult. Hermione saw him struggling and took the knife and pastry from him, finishing it for him, shooting him an exasperated look that clearly said she didn't understand why he didn't just use magic. Harry shrugged. He wasn't really sure either. Just didn't feel right.

Wendell, it seemed, was unable to restrain himself anymore and asked. "What happened to your arm?" He looked at Hermione, who was frowning at him. "Hermione never mentioned that."

Harry sighed. He knew this would come up but he wanted to avoid it. "I lost it in battle," he said simply. Not really a lie but not the full truth either since he was only referring to the latest instance.

Monica raised her eyebrows. "Battle? Is that dreadful war still going that strong, Hermione?"

Hermione nodded. "It is. And Harry has been through more in the fighting of it than most. He lost his arm, his brother and his childhood to it. You remember I told you about it back in first year."

Her parents nodded. "He was thought dead," Wendell said. "Killed by that Dark Lord."

Hermione nodded. "Yes. Only he didn't die. He was taken captive."

Monica was giving Harry that sympathetic look again and he shifted uncomfortably. He could accept such things from Hermione because she didn't pity him. "That's terrible. How did you escape?"

Harry paused. "I didn't," he said. Their expressions grew frightened and he sighed. "I didn't escape. I left."

"And they just let you go?" Wendell asked disbelieving.

Harry laughed. "Not at all. But, they couldn't stop me either. I killed three of them the night they attacked Hogwarts. One of them was Voldemort's favorite lieutenant."

The Grangers were shocked at how nonchalantly Harry talked about killing three people. As if it were nothing.

"Hermione, I think it's time Mr. Potter left," Wendell said. "And I think it's time you came back home."

Hermione shook her head defiantly. "No. I'm not leaving him and I am sure as hell not abandoning the fight! We've sacrificed too much to just walk away now."

"Hermione," Monica said gently. "Perhaps your father has a point."

Hermione was horrified and stood up, taking a step away from her parents. "Oh, mum, not you too."

Harry was calm through this, sipping his tea. "Sit down, Hermione. We came here for a peaceful visit with your parents, and that's what we are going to do." He shot a stern look at the elder Grangers, daring them to protest.

Wendell either didn't see it or ignored it; if it was the latter, he was either really brave or stupid; time would tell. "I think it's time you left," he said again.

Harry sighed and set his teacup down. He then stood up and looked down at the man. "Fine. But don't think you can keep Hermione here against her will. She is an adult now and a fully trained witch, I doubt you could force her to do anything at all if she didn't wish it."

Hermione looked on the verge of tears. "Mum, dad, you don't understand what's at stake here do you? Harry may have killed people, but he did so to protect me and to avenge those he loved." She looked at her father. "You killed during your military service! What makes Harry any different?"

Harry put his hand comfortingly on her shoulder and squeezed. "You can condemn me all you want. I don't care. I know who and what I am and I know that I don't deserve the love your daughter has shown me. I am a monster. I've killed countless times and I never once regretted it. I still don't. But, I never had a choice in what I became. I was taken from my family as a baby and tortured for the first five years of my life. After that, I was basically brainwashed into believing I was one of the Dark Lord's family. I was trained and ordered to kill. I did so, because it was all I ever knew. I never knew what love and kindness were until I met your daughter. And even then, it couldn't change my nature. I killed Albus Dumbledore because it had to be done. I killed three of Voldemort's men because they killed my brother." He smiled grimly, no joy in his expression. "I was eleven years old when I killed my first man. I remember the look on his face when the light went out behind his eyes. Such a sudden change, almost imperceptible, between life and death. And I felt ashamed. I had stolen from that man the most precious gift of all – life. But, I also felt something else – pride, because I had taken up arms against someone who sought to do ill against my family. And I realized...that what I did was necessary. You see, I had replaced evil with death. It was only later that I realized that the truly evil one was the one I was protecting...now, I protect others from that evil. I protected the woman I love from that evil."

Hermione was crying openly now. She flung herself against him, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his shoulder. Harry wrapped his arm around her.

The Grangers were looking at him with wide eyes and hanging jaws. What he had just told them was so terrible, on so many levels, not the least of which was that a child had been placed in that position, but also that the man that child had grown up to become could speak of it without even a hint of remorse.

"I lost my arm the first time trying to rid myself of the Mark that heralded me as a follower of the Dark Lord. I was forced to remove it when the Mark tried to drain the life out of me." He rubbed Hermione's back comfortingly and then began to run his fingers through her tawny locks. "Hermione transfigured a new one for me, made of metal. But I lost that one recently in battle against my oldest friend, all because I could not bring myself to kill him. And, for my stupidity, Hermione was nearly killed. I will not let such a thing come to pass again. I will kill anyone who dares even think of doing her harm, whether they be magical or muggle."

Hermione stiffened in his arm a moment, then relaxed again, lifting her head to look him in the eyes. "Harry, you don't need to threaten them. They would never hurt me, just like you wouldn't." He kissed him softly.

Harry closed his eyes and nodded. "All right. I'm sorry, love."

She shook her head. "Don't apologize. You've done nothing wrong. Let's get out of here."

Harry, surprisingly, shook his head. "No. You stay a while longer. Enjoy your time with your parents. I still need to go and see Fred and George. I'll come back and pick you up when I'm done. Or, you can have Dobby or Kreacher take you back home when you're ready."

Hermione smiled and nodded, kissing him again, despite the silent looks of her parents, who had not been able to form a single word since Harry had given his little speech.

"Dobby," Harry said softly.

With a small _pop_ what made the Grangers jump, the excitable little Elf appeared. "What can Dobby be doing for you, Mister Harry Potter Sir?" he asked, bouncing on his feet after bowing.

"I need to go to Diagon Alley," he said, taking the little Elf's hand. He looked at Hermione and smiled. "I'll see you soon."

Hermione nodded. "I love you," she said, a tear slipping from her eye.

"And I love you," Harry responded. Then, with another _pop_ he and Dobby were gone, leaving behind a Hermione who looked at her parents with a mixture of anger and sadness.

 **XXXX**

Harry and Dobby appeared in the middle of the street in Diagon Alley. Harry didn't really fear being recognized. His hair, beard and missing arm were very much unlike the images passed around by the Prophet, which were from when he had first returned, his hair much shorter and his face cleanly shaven, and obviously still having both arms.

He strode down the Alley after Dobby disappeared, making his way toward the large, brightly colored sign that marked the location of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, Fred and Georges immensely popular and mind-bogglingly profitable joke shop. Poor Zonko, the owner and operator of Zonko's Joke Shop, had been forced to close his doors by the infinitely more ingenious Weasley Twins, who bought out his shop and designs, turning the lone location in Hogsmead into a smaller WWW location; but, not ones to be cruel, they paid him handsomely and even let him manage the location for them, earning a generous income and even getting a commission for any new ideas he came up with.

Harry strode up to the store and pushed open the door. Inside was pandemonium, but then again that was Fred and George's natural environment, from what he had heard from Hermione, Bill and charlie.

Speaking of the two, they were standing up high, atop a balcony overlooking the entire shop, dressed in brightly colored suits and grinning from ear to ear.

Harry paused, looking up at them. It only took them a moment to spot him and their smiles slipped a little bit, but were back to full intensity with seconds. Fred waved him up and Harry began climbing the stairs to the upper floors of the shop. He was met by George on the third floor and ushered through a door at the back.

He led him up another flight of stairs and then through a curtain that led onto the balcony.

"Well, well, look who it is, George. It's old Harrald from New Zealand," Fred said, grinning.

George shook his head. "No, no, Fred. It's Harry Potter, from Godric's Hollow."

Fred made an 'oh' face. "You're right, it is. How goes it, Harry?"

Harry smirked at them, feeling a bit of the tension from earlier leave him at the twins' antics. "I'm told you two are the ones to talk to about getting in and out of Hogwarts unseen."

Fred and George looked at each other and then at Harry. "You heard right," they said in unison.

"But, the unseen part would be better with an invisibility cloak," George noted.

"True enough," Fred agreed. "But those are hard to come by."

"He could always take his father's."

"Yes, yes, James does have that rather nice one doesn't he?"

"Really special that one."

"Doesn't lose it's magic."

"Not like most."

"Wish we had something like that."

"Would have come in real handy back at school."

"Would make a killing if we could replicate it."

"We're already making a killing."

"One could say that Harry makes a killing too."

"Now that's just uncalled for."

"True enough though."

"Fair enough. But I think we're doing much better in the regard of gold."

"Not, so George, he is Lord Black, remember?"

"Ah, true. He's loaded and poor Sirius is left with nothing."

"I wouldn't say nothing, brother mine, he's been staying at the Potter House."

"And the Potters are very well off too."

"So, Harry is doing doubly better than us."

"Not so, George. He hasn't inherited the Potter gold yet."

"True enough. And I'm not George, you are."

"Am not!"

"Are so!"

"Am not!"

"Are so!"

"Take that back!"

"I will not! You take it back!"

Harry had grown bored of listening to their back and forth and was glaring at them, despite the small bit of intel that they had just imparted to him. "Listen, guys. If you have something to help me, spill, if not, I've got things to do."

Fred grinned at him again. "All right, all right. We've got what you need. But, It won't come free."

"Why not, Fred? His father made it, so it's basically his anyway by right," George said.

"Not so, George," Fred countered. "Ours was Wormtail's copy."

"Oh, right."

"What do you want for it?" Harry asked. "And what is it?"

"Fred, if you would," George said, looking at his brother, who pulled out a folded piece of parchment that looked all too familiar.

"This, Harry, is the Marauder's Map. One of four made by your father, Sirius, Remus and the traitor Peter Pettigrew; who was the one to betray the location of your house to You-Know-Who when you were a baby." Fred looked sick. "To think we looked up to him as one of the Marauders until James and Sirius told us the truth after we found this in our first year at Hogwarts. Didn't tell us until third year."

"Nicked it from Filch's office. He's got a treasure trove locked up in there!" George said proudly.

Fred drew his wand and touched it to the map. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

Words and lines began appearing on the parchment and Harry's heart stilled. It was the same as the one that Jimmy had been using the night he had died.

"Jimmy had something just like that the night he died," he told them, his eyes not leaving the map.

Fred and George's smiled fell and they looked sad. "Must have been your father's copy. Ours belonged to Pettigrew. He got caught with it by Filch and had it confiscated. The others refused to make him a new one, Sirius said. Didn't feel he was responsible enough for it. Might have been part of what drove him to turn on them."

Fred held out the map to Harry. "Take it. I don't know what you want it for, but you'll get more use out of it than we will."

George nodded and tapped a point on the map. "This one here, the One-Eyed Witch, leads from Honeyduke's cellar into the school. It's pretty straightforward and one of the few still accessible. It'll get you in and out with no problem."

Harry nodded, taking the map from them. "Thank you. I'll return it when I finish with it."

Fred nodded. "That's fine."

"Good luck, Harry," George said. "Oh, and to hide the map, just tap it and say 'mischief managed'." He did this to demonstrate and the words and lines all vanished, leaving blank parchment once more.

Harry thanked them again and left the shop, calling Dobby to his side, who informed him that Hermione was already back at Grimmauld Place. Dobby transported him back there and Harry walked up the stairs to their bedroom.

He opened the door and froze.

Hermione was sitting on the bed, her head held in her hands and her shoulders shaking as she sobbed heavily. Harry stepped inside, closing the door quietly. Hermione's head snapped up at the sound and she sat looking at him with an utterly broken expression on her face, tears rolling freely down her red cheeks.

She stood and ran across the room, throwing herself into his embrace, her entire form shaking.

Harry pulled her close with his one arm and leaned his head against hers, offering silent comfort to her.

Finally, after what felt like an hour, Hermione had relaxed somewhat and Harry felt it was time to find out what was wrong. "What's wrong, love?"

Hermione sniffed, her face still buried against his shoulder. "I...I..." She released another sob. "I...can never go home again..." she finally said.

Harry felt his heard freeze. "What do you mean?"

"My parents...they...they're gone..."

Harry's eyes widened. "Dead?"

Hermione froze, the shook her head. "No, not dead...just...gone." She sniffed again. "I took their memories...gave them new ones. They don't even remember me, Harry...I checked. After I performed the spell I knocked on the door. My mum...she didn't even recognize me. I..I expected that but...I didn't expect it to hurt so much..."

Harry sighed and kissed her temple. "Why did you do it, Hermione?"

Hermione exhaled. "So they would be safe. You don't read the Prophet anymore, but Voldemort's followers have been killing muggles lately, since you betrayed them. That's why I wanted to go and see my parents again. To make sure they were okay. Now they will be. Far away from here, without me."

"Where did you send them?" Harry asked, feeling his heart break at seeing Hermione so torn up.

"Australia," she answered. "It's so far away...and so far removed. They'll be safe there. And I can keep fighting here." She sniffed and wiped at her eyes with one hand, the other still clutching onto Harry. "Maybe when this is all over I can go and get them. Bring them home..."

Harry closed his eyes and held her tighter. "It's okay to cry, Hermione. You did what you had to. As we all must. So, go ahead. Let it all out. Scream, shout, cry. Whatever you have to do to cope with this. I'll be right here with you. Always."

Hermione nodded, fresh tears fallen and she let herself break down. All the while, Harry was right there, arm around her, holding her together.

 **XXXX**

 **A/N: All done here. This was a difficult chapter to write. Let me know what you think.**

 **-Atrocity.**

 **P.S.: I decided to go with the film location of the Granger House, which is Heathgate, Hampstead Garden Suburb in Northwest London. Most stories I've read usually place the House in Crawley, but I have no idea where this started or what sparked the idea. As the films are a bit closer to canon than what we all write here and more so than some things that Rowling herself wrote (for the most part; Epilogue? What's the Epilogue? Never heard of that..huh.) I decided to use it. Plus it fit better with the narrative, given the earlier scene in 'His Brother's Keeper' or 'Chapter 28' where Harry and Hermione were sitting on the roof of Grimmauld and Hermione could see her house from there, pointing it out to Harry from that distance based on the location of the church.**

 **Anyway, just thought I'd explain that, in case anyone was wondering.**

 **If anyone could explain where the Crawley thing came from I'd really be interested to hear it as I have no idea. Is it just something a writer here did and it just stuck or was there some reference to it somewhere that isn't mentioned on any of the HP information sites out there. Do tell.**

 **NOTE: I also kept the 'fake' names that Hermione gave her parents. My logic on this is that it would be easier to accept the memory change if as little as possible was changed. People instinctively respond to their real names even if they go by a nickname. It isn't a conscious thing it just is. So, I figured it would be easier to have someone respond to a name they instinctively know was theirs even if their memories had been changed.**

 **Also: Casting!**

 **Wendell Hugo Granger: Hugo Weaving (I would kill to have him read me an audiobook of the Harry Potter series...)**

 **Monica Rose Granger: Michelle Fairley**

 **Yes, I like those names. My grandmother was named Rose and several of my relatives have it as a middle name, so it holds a special place in my heart – it's sort of a matriarchal name for my family. As for Hugo, well, Victor Hugo was a favorite of mine in high school, Hugo Weaving is a great actor, Hugo Strange from DC is an interesting character, that film Hugo was a good film; the name even has a good meaning in old German, which is 'intelligent' or 'bright in spirit and mind'. I don't understand the hate for these names. Now, the names of Harry's kids in 'canon' (shudder) are absolutely terrible.**


	31. Descending

**XXXI. Descending**

"Have you ever heard of the pirate Ned Low?"

Hermione looked up from her book at Harry's question. They were in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place, Harry at the stove and Hermione sitting contently at the table, the book on rituals sitting open before her. They had discussed the pros and cons of the ritual Harry had found and decided that it was their best bet in regards to getting Harry back to full strength. Hermione was just trying to memorize the steps.

"What?" she asked, having been focused on the words in front of her and thus not prepared to be asked a question out of the blue.

"Ned Low, the pirate," he said again. "Heard of him?"

Hermione nodded. "Oh yeah. I had a phase as a child where I wanted to be a pirate, so I read up as much as I could on the subject. I mean, most people only know Blackbeard and such, but most don't seem to realize that he was by no means the most brutal nor the most successful pirate out there. Ned Low, Charles Vane, Stede Bonnet, Bartholomew Roberts, Henry Morgan; they were all very successful."

Harry nodded. "Low was always my favorite," he said, using a spatula to flip the two small strips of meat sizzling away merrily on the skillet in front of him.

Hermione smirked. "I know. You've got a replica of his flag in your trunk."

Harry frowned. "I do? Oh, yeah. How much of my stuff did you go through?"

Hermione shrugged, smiling as a cup of tea appeared in front of her. "All of it."

Harry scowled in good humor. "Is there no privacy?" he asked, eyes rolling upward as he entreated the Universe to answer his query.

Hermione smirked. "Sure there is. I'm just too curious for my own good."

Harry nodded, pointing the spatula at her. "That you are, love."

Hermione hummed as she took a sip of her tea. "So, why the sudden questions about pirates?"

Harry shrugged. "Just that Ned Low did something like this once, to a prisoner."

Hermione frowned. She had been up here all morning, reading and memorizing but Harry had been down in the 'dungeon' with Dolohov and only came back up a short while ago. She had just assumed he was hungry when she heard the first sizzle from the frying pan. Now, she wasn't so sure that was the case.

"What are you doing?" she asked, craning her neck to try and see his activities.

Harry grinned and flipped the meat again. "I am currently preparing our honored guest his mid-day meal. Two strips of bacon, sort of, cut from his own flesh." He scooped the meat onto a plate. "His lips, to be exact."

Hermione looked like she might be sick. "Harry, that...I can't even begin to tell you how messed up that is."

"I could always go back to breaking bones," he said.

Hermione groaned. "Please no. The screams keep me awake."

It was true. He could see the evidence of it on her face. The dark shadows under her eyes and the somewhat less graceful than normal movements. Following her visit to her parents she had been an emotional wreck and Harry had done what he could to help her through it but she had slept little and cried often and on top of that, Dolohov seemed to have gotten it into what remained of his mind to be more vocal during their sessions; probably in some vain hope that someone would hear him and come to his rescue. This was his punishment for that, and for depriving Hermione of even more sleep with his caterwauling and whinging.

"Then lip bacon it is," he said with a smile. He set the plate down momentarily, casting a quick charm to keep the two strips of flesh hot, and walked over to Hermione's side. He placed his one hand on her shoulder and gently kneaded the skin and muscle there. Hermione reached up and grasped his hand in her own. "Do you want me to just kill him?" he asked. He didn't think that the man had suffered near enough yet for what he had done but Hermione's well-being was more important to him.

Hermione sighed. "A part of me says yes, but another part of me says that he deserves it; not because of what he did to me, or at least not _just_ for that, but for what he may have done to others before me, or after me had you not taken him in."

Harry leaned down and kissed her atop the head. "Just say the word and I'll put a knife between his ribs and let him bleed out."

Hermione was struggling. She wasn't vengeful or violent by nature and the thought of torturing someone was revolted, and yet she felt a small thrill go through her at the thought that it was all for her. Harry had proven something that most men could only naively promise; he would do anything for her, even kill. It wasn't really anything special as he would kill anyway but she latched on to it, letting it fill her with a strong sense of joy that she had a man so loyal to her that he would fight, maim, torture and kill for her, and more besides to protect or avenge her. She also couldn't help that she liked seeing him happy and he seemed to be having far too much fun in making her would-be murderer regret ever being born.

Finally she shook her head. "Let him live a while longer. Honestly, I think you need this more than I do."

Harry couldn't argue that. He had an outlet for all of the rage and fear and hate he had been feeling after seeing Hermione fall. If he didn't have this, well, who knows what stupid, rash or foolish thing he may have done. Probably something stupid like go to Malfoy Manor alone and try to take down the lot of them single-handed; literally, he thought with a wry grin.

Hermione saw him grin and shook her head. She knew him too well. "Go on. You're 'honored guest' will be wondering where the room service he ordered is. The last thing we need is him leaving a bad review of our hospitality and ruining our reputation."

Harry smirked. "Potter and Granger's Inn, service that slays!"

Hermione slapped a hand against her forehead. "Get out," she said, pointing to the door of the kitchen.

Harry laughed, kissed her cheek and then did as she said, picking up the plate of fried lips on his way out. He shook his head. "You know, Dolohov must be ravenous by now. Waiting on his meal, one could say that it's _torture_."

" _Out!_ "

Harry cackled joyously as the door closed behind him.

Hermione just shook her head. She was glad to see Harry in such good spirits. He had been successful in finding a way to get into Hogwarts and retrieve the Horcruxes. Now he just needed to do it. He had insisted on waiting until she was feeling better before doing anything though.

Hermione was more than ready to get out of the house and do something productive. The longer she stayed cooped up inside the longer she had to think about all that had happened so far. She missed her parents even more now than she had before going to see them. She suspected because now they would be out of even her grasp and she could not just apparate over to see them if she wished.

Harry was supportive of her and had told her that they would soon see this war ended so she could bring her family back where they belonged. She hoped that was true. Harry seemed to believe it but she knew that he was not an optimist. He was a realist and, at times, a pessimist. He hoped for the best but always set his aim lower so as not to be disappointed. She was much the same. So, while she hoped that this war would end soon and everything would be okay, she knew that war had a price and more often than not that price was the lives of loved ones.

Jimmy had already been claimed as testament to this fact. Who would be next? Tonks? Fleur? One of the Weasleys? Lily? Harry? Her?

She rubbed her eyes as a headache began to take hold.

Her parents weren't the only thing that was bothering her. When she slept – what little she could manage – she dreamed and when she dreamed she saw that little bird dying in her hands. She replayed the whole event again and again and each time it was the same. She tried, she really did, but no matter how much she fought or tried to time it better it always ended the same and she would again put the poor thing out of its misery.

Harry knew something was wrong. Every time she would wake up with tears clinging to her eyes and a sense of helplessness he was there at her side, offering comfort. She couldn't bring herself to tell him about it, not yet, but she knew he didn't buy her lie about not being able to recall what she had been dreaming about. He could read her too well for that.

She wasn't sure why it bothered her so much either. She had done what she thought was right, but at the same time she had killed an innocent creature that didn't deserve to die. All she knew for sure was that something inside her was fundamentally changed that night.

She wondered if this was how Harry had felt the night he had killed Walburga Black. She had read about the event in his journal but he was brief about it and did not go into the feelings he had felt at the time. Probably because it was written long after the fact and he either didn't remember or, more likely, didn't think that such things were relevant.

He was just a boy at the time. Surely he had been scared and ashamed. Of course, she had read how the Death Eaters had praised him and such, so perhaps he was coaxed past such feelings by a feeling of accomplishment and belonging.

Hermione didn't have that, nor did she want it in this regard. She had done something terrible for the right reasons and she knew that there was nothing to be ashamed of in that. Had she not killed the poor bird it would have died slowly, suffering much before it finally fell into eternal sleep. She had shown mercy. It was a kindness.

She laughed humorlessly. That was how Harry had described killing Walburga. She had been old and near death already, barely able to stand on her own. He saw it as a kindness. He let her die with dignity.

A scream echoed up from the basement and Hermione sighed. Perhaps they should just go ahead and ward the entire basement for privacy. They had refrained so far as a safety measure. They knew what Dolohov's screams sounded like. If he somehow got loose they would be able to hear whoever was down there with him scream and know it was not Dolohov. She had suggested silencing the man but Harry had dismissed it. He needed to be able to know the man was still alive without having to keep eyes on him at all times. His whimpering and cries saw to that purpose. Hermione also knew that Harry secretly enjoyed it. The screams of his enemy were like music to his ears. Hermione's, not so much.

Well, there was only one other thing to do. She would ward their bedroom to not allow the sound inside. Why she hadn't thought of it earlier, she didn't know.

That in mind, she stood up from the table and walked out of the kitchen, through the dining room and into the parlour. She glanced up at the severed head of Neville Longbottom, a boy she had gone to school with since they were eleven years old. She remembered the soft-spoken and kind boy he had been. He longed to be like his parents, strong and brave in the face of danger. Heroes he had called them once. Where had that boy gone?

The man who had held her at wand-point and threatened to kill her was so far removed from the boy she had known; though she had only known him in passing through Ron.

She expected to feel the revulsion she normally felt when she saw the head, but strangely it was not there. She bit her lip with worry. Was she becoming used to such things?

War, she decided, was to blame. War changed people...made heroes out of some, while turning others into monsters.

She was about to head up the stairs when she heard a muffled shout from the hallway. She froze, listening. There it was again.

Slowly, she walked over to the entrance of the hall and peered down it, wand in hand, ready to start throwing curses if the need arose.

"HARRY!" she heard again, directly from her left side and jumped a good foot in the air, turning sharply, wand raised and a small yelp escaping her lips.

She frowned when she saw nothing but a pair of dark curtains held together by a bit of chain. Wait, this was where the Portrait of Sirius' mother was. This was Walburga's portrait. Curiosity about the woman Harry had killed at the tender age of five overruled her sense of caution and she flicked her wand, unlocking the chain and letting it fall to the floor with a loud thump.

When Sirius was here, the portrait would scream and curse at them all at the slightest hint of noise, but not since the night she was injured had she heard a peep out of it. She knew Harry had spoken to it and after that it was quiet. Now, looking at the chain and heavy lock, she knew why. But, why had Harry locked the portrait away? This was the woman who had given him her House.

She tore the curtains open just as the old woman in the curtain screamed "HARRY!" again. At the same time another scream was heard from the basement, covering up Walburga's own outburst.

Hermione winced at the sudden loudness of the voice and clamped her hands over her ears.

Walburga seemed to realized what she had done. "Oh, so sorry, dear. I didn't see you there." She smiled contritely, but it slowly morphed into a scowl as she took in who it was that was standing in front of her. The two had never spoken, but Walburga had seen her in the house when Sirius was running things. "You. You're the mudblood, aren't you?"

Hermione frowned up at her. "I'm muggleborn, yes. But what does that have to do with anything?"

Walburga either didn't hear her or ignored her, with the latter being the more likely. "My vagrant son, traipsing about with all sorts of undesirables. Oh, if only my poor Regulus was still alive."

Hermione scowled. "Sirius isn't here anymore," she said.

This caught Walburga's attention. "Beg pardon?"

Hermione sighed and repeated herself. "Sirius doesn't live here anymore."

"What happened to him?" the older woman asked. "Is he dead?" Hermione detected a mixture of fear and hope both mingled in her voice.

Hermione shook her head. "No. He's alive. But, he and the rest of the Order, save a few, left when Harry took over. It's just me, Harry, Harry's mum and a few of the Weasleys left here. Oh, and Tonks."

Walburga frowned in an annoyed fashion. "The clumsy one?"

Hermione nodded, casting a glance at the Troll Leg at the end of the hall, sitting there innocently. "Yes, the clumsy one," she confirmed, turning back to the old woman.

"If I may ask, which Weasleys yet remain under my roof? And why?"

Hermione counted off on her fingers. "Bill, Charlie, Fleur. That's it." She wiggled the three fingers at the portrait for emphasis. "Bill and Fleur are here because Bill had a fight with his mother and younger siblings over his choice of wife – she's Quarter-Veela, you see – and Charlie because he took his brother's side in the argument. It came to curses recently."

"And you?" Walburga asked, looking down her nose at Hermione. "Why has my heir let _you_ stay? I can understand his mother. Despite being a mudblood, she is family, and family is important. But _you_ , well, I cannot fathom why he would let you stay."

Hermione gazed back defiantly. "He loves me," she asserted. "And I love him. It's as simple as that."

Walburga laughed. It was a mocking, shrill sort of sound. However, the laughter died down when she realized that Hermione was not joking. "You're serious?"

Hermione snorted. "No, that would be your son."

Walburga sneered. "Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, you know."

Hermione shrugged. "Funny, I always thought it wasn't wit at all. I must be having an off day."

Walburga studied her a for a long moment. "It would seem that Harry has more of his father in him than he thinks."

Hermione's expression became stony and cold. "Don't ever compare him to his father. Harry is a hundred times the man James could ever hope to be!"

Walburga raised an eyebrow at Hermione's sudden show of protective anger. "I meant him no disrespect, child. I admire that boy. He went through so much before he was even out of nappies and somehow came out stronger for it. I remember hearing the screams from the dungeon when the Dark Lord would torture the boy. Then, one day, at a meeting, the idea came up to use him as a weapon against the Order. Regulus, my son, urged me to vote in favor and give Harry the position as Head of House Black. It would protect the boy. Regulus always did have a soft heart and a love for children. I was dying and we both knew it. So, at his urging, I did it."

Hermione was enraptured and dared not make the slightest sound, lest she break the spell that Walburga had seeming fallen under while thinking of the past.

"I remember when they brought him up from his cell. He was cleaned and fed, dressed in a fine robe; so unlike the rags and filth he had lived in since before he could walk or really talk. Only Barty, bless him, and my dear Regulus kept the boy alive. Made sure he got food and medicine when he fell ill. Made sure he at least had a few thin blankets to hold off the cool and damp." She blinked. "The Dark Lord wiped his memory of all of that when they brought him up. By this point I was frail and weak. Far to weak to even stand on my own. But when I saw that poor trembling boy standing there with a wand in his hand that had chosen him, somehow the Dark Lord knew that it would, I summoned what remained of my strength and stood proud and tall. I wanted him to be less afraid. I wanted him to know that it was all right."

Hermione had tears welling up in her eyes as she listened to the story. She could just imagine it all. But, it was the thought of a small, broken child being kept down in the dark and damp with naught but a thin blanket and some rags to keep him warm that broke her heart. The pain he must have suffered on a regular basis. And his only friends were a man who had died years ago and another who was now his enemy. Walburga said that they had erased his memories of it. It would explain why he had had those dreams, but could not seem to hold on to them. It also explain the pain that she had seen in Barty's eyes when he and Harry had met again. But, Barty's Cruciatus had broken whatever barrier yet remain on those memories, at least the most painful ones.

"Now, he tells me that he has turned against the Dark Lord. Is this truly so?" Walburga looked at her, an unreadable expression in her eyes.

Hermione nodded. "He has."

"Why?"

Hermione frowned. If Harry had told her that much, why had he not told her more? He must have had his reasons. "His reasons are his own. It is not my place to tell them."

Walburga smirked. "Loyalty."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Hermione countered.

Walburga shook her head. "Not at all, my dear girl. In fact, I quite admire it. Family is everything, and if what you say about loving that boy is true, we may just be that yet."

Hermione gaped for a moment, then swallowed and closed the curtains. "It was nice to meet you, Lady Black," she said through the small opening that remained.

Walburga chortled. "And you as well, Lady Black."

Hermione's eyes widened again and she fasted the chain back to the curtains with sharp, quick motions. She fell back with a sigh and ran a hand over her face.

She didn't know why that reaction had come out of her. Perhaps it was because she had not considered the idea that she and Harry might one day marry. It was still somewhat early to be thinking of that. But, she also knew that in Pureblood families, such things were often already planned out in advance and for Harry, he was nearing the age where he would be expected to take a wife and father an heir.

Harry was not only the heir of House Black, but also of House Potter. He held the future of not one but two Ancient and Noble Houses in hands. He would be expected to continue those houses. Was she ready for that sort of commitment? She hadn't even thought about marriage, let alone children. She was too young for such things.

She shook her head. In the Wizarding World, she was at just the right age for those sort of things.

She slid to the floor and pulled her knees up against her breasts, hands covering her face. How had her life become so complicated so fast?

She leaned her head back against the wall behind her and closed her eyes. She shouldn't be concerned about such things right now. The war stood in the way of such things. And besides that, she had just been praised for a show of loyalty that she hadn't even realized she had committed. She already knew that there was no going back now. She was in too far. Did she even wish she could go back? No, she decided. She didn't. She wasn't leaving Harry, no matter what. Only death could separate them, and not even then, for long. All things considered, forever wasn't that long at all.

She nodded to herself, affirming her devotion and was about to pull herself back to her feet when the sound of the door opening reached her ears. She turned sharply and drew her wand. "What are _you_ doing back here?"

 **XXXX**

Harry entered the basement, plate in hand and a smile still plastered on his face. He went over to Dolohov, who was hanging there with blood running down his face, neck and chest. His face, now sans lips, was a gruesome sight, teeth showing now where flesh had once hidden them from view.

"Well, Antonin, how are we this morning?" He levitated the plate in front of him and picked up a piece of the fried flesh. "Time for breakfast." Dolohov could barely open his eyes, but he seemed to instinctively know what it was that Harry was trying to feed him. He turned his head away and whimpered pitifully.

Harry smirked and forced his mouth open with magic, shoving the meat inside and forcing him to chew and swallow. He repeated this process once more with the second piece.

"Now, now," he admonished. "Don't fight me. You need your strength. Don't want you dying on me just yet." He went over to a bucket of water and dipped the small wooden cup he found there into it. He went back to Dolohov. "Here we go. Some water to wash it down."

Dolohov drank as best as he could, trying to get the flavor of his own flesh out of his mouth but his lack of lips made it difficult not to spill most of what he took in.

Harry tossed the cup aside when it was empty. It vanished on the spot and reappeared on the table next to the bucket of water. Dobby must be bored again if he was jumping to do such a small task so quickly. He needed to find the Elf a hobby; one that wasn't cleaning. Maybe he could take up knitting...

"Well," Harry said with a sigh. "What bone shall we be breaking today? I see Charlie has already done the entire foot and the ankles. Hm, I know what to do." He snapped his fingers and the chains unraveled somewhat from the rafter, lowering Dolohov until feet touched the ground and his body weight put enough pressure to cause him some pain.

He cried out weakly. That wasn't near enough reaction for Harry's satisfaction, so he raised him up with a simple levitation charm and then dropped him from approximately seven feet up. He landed with a rattle of chains and a sickening crunch of bones that were already broken being damaged even further and Harry was rewarded with a lung-splitting scream from the older man.

"Much better," Harry smiled, slapping Dolohov on the cheek as he walked over to sit at the table. "You know, I'm not getting as much enjoyment out of this as I was before. Maybe I need to get more creative. Or maybe I should just kill you."

Harry really was getting tired of this. He wanted to make the man suffer and had done so already, but he was losing the drive to do so. Early on, he had relished every wince, gasp and scream he had drawn from the man, but now it was almost routine. That was why he had gone and taken a page from the book of his favorite pirate, hoping to break the monotony.

Harry pulled out the Elder Wand and twirled it absentmindedly between his fingers. On a whim he pointed the wand at Dolohov and uttered, " _Crucio_."

Dolohov screamed again but Harry lifted the curse a few seconds later. His heart wasn't in it. He couldn't even cast that spell now without remembering the pain of being under it as a child. Slowly, ever since whatever block that had been preventing him from remembering his childhood had been broken, more and more of his memory had been coming back to him, mostly in the form of dreams.

He tossed his wand down on the table with feeling of self-disgust. When had he become so weak that he let the memories of the past hold him back? He laughed mirthlessly. Had the same thing not happened at the Ministry? He had let the years of friendship that was practically brotherhood hold him back from killing Barty. Now, he was letting his own past suffering prevent him from inflicting the same pain on another.

"Pathetic," he sneered at himself. He picked up the wand again with new determination and pointed it at Dolohov. He was going to crush that part of him, even if it meant killing his prisoner sooner than planned. " _Crucio_!"

Dolohov screamed at the spell wracked his body with the pain of a thousand blunted knives carving slowly away at every inch of him. Harry held the curse, growling as his own memories warred with his determination for dominance. Soon the screams of his victim and his own blended together and he could no longer tell which was real and which was memory.

Cursing, he ended the curse and screamed. He was breathing heavily and sweat caused his hair to cling wetly to his face. He had been putting everything he had into the curse and he was feeling quite drained.

The sound of the door to the basement opening pulled him from his thoughts and he turned just in time to see a panicked Hermione run into the room, wand in hand, eyes darting around for any danger.

"Harry," she breathed, seeing him unharmed. "Are you all right? I heard you scream." Her voice was shaky and higher in pitch than was normal. Harry realized that she was in fight or flight mode still, despite there being no danger. Something was wrong.

"I think I should ask you that, Hermione," he countered. "You look like you're expecting an ambush."

Hermione cocked her head questioningly, her eyes darted toward the stairs. Realizing he was right, she took a deep, slow breath to calm herself. "Ah, well, we have a visitor."

Harry raised a brow at this. "Really? Who?"

Hermione frowned, looking up the stairs again and Harry noticed someone descending toward them. "Professor McGonagall," Hermione said unnecessarily.

The woman was standing at the base of the stairs looking over the sight before her. Harry's one-armed form, Hermione's tense stance, and the hanging, bloodied form of Antonin Dolohov.

"I had heard the whispers at the Burrow," the older woman said, her eyes still on the prisoner. "But I did not think that they were actually true. Perhaps another lie from James and Sirius to try and discredit you, but this...I see there was more to the truth than I believed." She looked at Harry with open disapproval and disappointment. "I must say, I never thought you would stoop so low, Mr. Potter. And you, Ms. Granger...I expected so much better from you. You disappoint me. I can only be glad that neither of you were in my House."

Harry snorted. "The feeling is mutual, Professor. Had we been Gryffindors I have no doubts you would have turned us into cowering kittens like the traitorous Weasleys, or my father and Sirius. Instead, we are Ravens, not afraid to do what must be done and the wisdom to see it." He smiled when he saw Hermione stand a little taller at his words.

McGonagall sniffed derisively. "May I request that we adjourn to more _desirable_ surroundings? I have something very important to discuss with you."

Harry pocketed his wand and gestured up the stairs. "By all means." He gave Dolohov a swift kick to his broken legs before following the two women, earning a cry that made McGonagall jump at it's suddenness.

The three climbed the stairs out of the basement and Harry closed and locked the door securely behind them. Harry and Hermione took a seat on a settee across from the sofa, where McGonagall perched herself, looking for all like she was refusing to get comfortable, which Harry hoped meant that she was not planning to stay long.

"What do you want?" Harry asked, cutting straight to the heart of things.

McGonagall stiffened at his blunt and direct manner. "As you know, I am now Headmistress of Hogwarts." Both teens nodded. "Now, as is tradition, each former Headmaster or Headmistress has a portrait of themselves hung in the Office, and it is infused with their magical essence. Each Headmaster provides a sample of this when they take the post and it grows with them until they die. A self-updating piece of themselves, if you will. Now, Professor Dumbledore's portrait made me aware of something. He told me about the mission the two of you were undertaking and that you would be needing to continue that mission. He directed me to a secret drawer in his desk where he said some tools for your mission were located and said I needed to bring them to you."

Harry sat up a bit straighter. "I had been planning to enter Hogwarts myself and retrieve them. Where are they?" This was good. He would have the Horcruxes back and could destroy them and make his move on Voldemort. He was now fairly certain that Nagini was the final Horcrux and he would have to kill the damned snake first, but the end was in sight.

McGonagall looked uncomfortable, or more so than she already was. "They were not there."

Harry felt a cold, icy hand grip his heart and a weight like lead settle in his stomach. "What?" he asked, his voice strangely calm and even. Hermione sensed danger and moved closer to him, her hands going around his arm in a silent show of comfort.

McGonagall did not notice the change. "Whatever these tools were, they were gone when I opened the desk." She reached into her robe and pulled out a small folded piece of parchment. "This was all that was there."

She handed it over and Hermione took it with one hand, the other still clutching tightly to Harry. She used her thumb to flip it open and the two read what was written there.

 _You shouldn't leave such valuable items just laying around._

 _BC._

Harry stared at the words scribbled there in that familiar hand and the two large letters used to sign it. He felt a well of rage building up inside of him and gently lifted him arm out of Hermione's grasp. He stood slowly, eyes holding a faraway look. "If you will excuse me a moment," he said, in an empty tone.

Without waiting for an answer, he turned and walked from the room, unlocking the door to the dungeon and going down inside. He walked into the room, stepping past Dolohov, who was watching him through swollen eyelids.

Harry ran a hand through his hair, forcing himself to take slow and deep breaths. It did little good. He leaned his hand heavily on the back of the wooden chair by the table where he usually sat.

Barty Crouch, that was what the initials meant. He knew that writing well. Barty had stolen the Horcruxes. But how had he done that? He wouldn't have had the chance to do it unless...Harry cursed. That was why he had been absent from the Astronomy Tower and most of the rest of the short battle. He was in the Headmaster's Office, stealing the Horcruxes. But how had he known about them? How had he known where they were?

Harry briefly considered that he had been spying on him but dismissed it. How would he have managed that?

The rage came to a head and Harry could hold it in no more. His hand closed around the top of the chair and he turned with a scream and lifted the chair, smashing it with all of his strength into the back of Dolohov's body.

The cry of pain from the man was interrupted and turned into a grunt as he was struck again, the chair breaking under the force of the blow. Harry struck again and again until he could no longer lift his arm. Finally he collapsed to his knees, his breathing ragged and his sweat mixing with tears of frustration and a lingering sense of hopelessness.

He looked up at Dolohov to see him staring blankly down, eyes open and unseeing, blood spilling slowly out of his mouth, staining the teeth and chin before dripping down into the dirt.

Dolohov was dead.

With a sigh Harry pulled himself to his feet and with a wave of his wand cut the chains, letting the body fall to the floor. He conjured a long, thick dagger and proceeded to chop the head from the corpse with harsh, violent motions.

He stood up after a few minutes, the process taking longer than normal as he was already tired and had done it without magic. He wasn't sure why, as his thoughts were a haze at this point, dulled and clouded with anger and fear.

He trudged up the stairs, the head held in his one hand by the hair, blood trailing behind him as he walked. He himself was also covered in the stuff. His hands, arms, face and chest. Chopping a head off with a dagger was messy business. Even his knees and legs had some on them from the spray and the pool that had formed. What a sight he must make.

He entered the parlour and approached the mantle, ignoring the gasps from the two witches in the room. He stood for a moment, chest heaving, blood splattered all over him and dripping from the head in his hand. Taking a deep breath, he conjured another spike next to the one had held Neville's head and secured Dolohov's head to it. Immediately, the blood dripping from it ceased and it was cleaned up a bit. Dobby or Kreacher doing the work while the other cleaned up the trail of blood that he had left in his wake.

He looked at the two witches now, noting Hermione's wide, fearful eyes with a pang of guilt. "Hermione, love," he started, waiting until she nodded to him before continuing. "Show the Professor out. And make sure she won't be telling anyone about what she saw here, or what brought her here. Please." He added the last word as a kindness and a salve to his rather brutal display.

He waited again until she nodded and then made his way to the stairs, leaving a trail of bloody boot-prints in his wake, that magically vanished after a second as one of the Elves followed him invisibly and cleaned up the fresh mess.

As he reached the first landing, he heard Hermione's voice strongly intone, " _Obliviate_!"

He smirked in satisfaction and continued his trek. He entered his and Hermione's room and began stripping off his blood-drenched clothes, tossing them unceremoniously on the floor at his feet, where they promptly vanished along with his boots to be cleaned. His face and hair and red right hand were another matter.

He went into the adjoined bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. His face, hair and beard were caked in blood and his green eyes popped startlingly against the contrasting color and he couldn't help but think it would be even more striking if his eyes were blue instead. Looking at himself now, it was no surprise that he had seen fear in Hermione's eyes.

He closed his eyes against the image. How could she even stand to look at him if this was what she saw when she did?

He didn't regret killing Dolohov. He had never regretting a single kill he had ever made and that wasn't going to change any time soon. Some part of him, though, wished that he had had the presence of mind to not walk out there with a severed head in his hands and looking for all the world like he had just been trying to bathe in the blood of his enemy.

He opened his eyes and looked into the eyes of his reflection. What if Hermione decided that he wasn't worth it? What if she thought he was too dangerous? What if she left?

The answer to that was simple. He would let her.

He loved her, he knew that to be true, but he would not force her to stay. He would not tell her how to live her life. She was her own woman and she had to do what she thought was best for her. And he would respect her decision. Even if it meant her being as far away from him as possible.

He stumbled to the deep bath and began running warm water. The bath was huge, bigger even than the one that he had had at Malfoy Manor, which had been the size of a small swimming pool. When it was full, he stepped down inside until it reached his chest, then sank down until he was completely submerged. His hand came up and scrubbed furiously at his face and neck, the blood forming a pink cloud around him as he forced it from his body. It cleared away a moment later, leaving the water clean and clear once more.

He did the same with his hair and beard, using soap to clean away all traces of blood and gore. Finally, he felt sufficiently clean and leaned back against the edge of the bath, closing his eyes and just enjoying the warmth of the water around him. He drifted into a trance, letting his breathing slow and his mind travel deep down into itself, as he used to do every day. He had not felt the need to do so as often since he and Hermione had joined the first time after coming to Grimmauld, but he needed it now.

Harry opened his eyes and found himself standing in the center of a dark room, naked. He also had both arms.

He looked around him, taking in the scene. The ground beneath his feet was natural earth, complete with grass and rocks. So, not a room then. He turned in a slow circle, finding darkness on all sides, save for a pale blue light shining down from somewhere above, but when he looked up he could see nothing but more darkness.

 _"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches..."_

The words of the Prophecy echoed from the shadows, sounding just like the rasping voice he had heard when holding the Orb in his hand.

 _"...born to those who have thrice defied him..."_

A second voice had joined the first, sounding like his mother's voice. He looked around him, unable to locate where the voice was coming from.

 _"...born as the seventh month dies..."_

A third voice joined; Barty's voice.

 _"...and the Dark Lord shall Mark him as his equal..."_

Was that Dumbledore's voice? The words were getting louder with every voice that joined the veritable choir.

 _"...but he shall have power the Dark Lord knows not_... _"_

Luna? He spun again, the voices seeming coming from all around him, but he could see nothing and his feet would not carry him forward to search.

 _"...and either must die at the hands of the other..."_

Jimmy? Where was he? Harry looked around desperately for his brother, hoping just a glimpse of the boy.

 _"...for neither can live while the other survives..."_

Hermione? That was her voice that had joined the others. The voices were so loud now that he felt the earth beneath his feet rumble with the power of them all.

Then it all went quiet and a single, soft voice spoke, seeming coming from within his own mind.

 _"...the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies."_

He had heard that voice before, in his dreams, pleading for the torture to stop. It was his own voice, from when he was a child.

He sank to his knees. What was all of this? What was the point? He knew the Prophecy. What was the purpose of having it forced on him like this?

 _"Haven't you figured it out yet?"_

Harry stood up and turned sharply, seeing a smiling Hermione standing there, her hair falling in soft curls over her shoulders. She was dressed as he had first seen her, in muggle jeans and a simple white shirt.

"Hermione?" he asked, confusion filling him. "What is all of this? Where are we?"

Hermione chuckled softly. _"Oh, Harry. This is your mind. Your soul."_

Harry looked around at the darkness, taking it in. Then tried to find the source of the pale light, but he couldn't see anything above him. Then he saw it. It was coming from Hermione. Every where she moved, the light followed.

"Why am I seeing all of this? Hearing it? I already know the Prophecy."

Hermione shook her head, still smiling. _"This isn't about knowing the words, Harry. It's about understanding them. It's all pretty straightforward until you get to the bit about a power Voldemort doesn't know about."_

Harry nodded. "July is the seventh month, and I was born at the end of July." Hermione nodded. "My parents fought him directly three times before my birth." Another nod. "He Marked me with his own brand when I was a child, and he also spared me that night. Both of those could have been considered as his choosing me, or 'marking' me as his equal." Another nod. "I don't know about this power or the rest really. It seems like a bunch of vague nonsense."

Hermione giggled. _"Such is the nature of Divination, no?"_ She cocked her head at him. _"You have no guesses?"_

Harry shook his head.

Hermione sighed but the smile never left her face. He liked it when she smiled. It made him feel at ease, knowing she was happy.

 _"The power the Dark Lord knows not...Dumbledore would have undoubtedly said it was love. But there is so much more than that. Anyone can love, even Voldemort could at one point. But, life is often cruel and he was never shown such affection and so was never able to give it in return. You were much the same for so long, but you found love. Real love."_ Hermione smiled even more. _"You have a power that he does not, this is true, but it is nothing so vague as love. You simply don't fear death as he does. He hides behind magic he knows nothing about to protect himself from the grave. You know that Death is not something to fear. As such, you will fight harder, smarter. And, you have something to fight and die for. That is where the love comes in. Most think that a man with nothing to lose is the most dangerous kind. They are wrong. A man with everything to lose will fight until the last drop of life leaves his body to protect it. You used to be the former, now you are the latter. You have friends, a mother, a woman you love. You would give everything to ensure their safety, would you not? That is the power he knows not. He fights only for himself. You don't."_

Harry nodded. That made some sense, he decided. But, then again, of course it did. He was apparently in his own mind. It was just telling him what he already knew subconsciously but couldn't think openly. "And the part about not being able to live while the other survives?"

Hermione just looked at him with that smile still on her face. _"That's obvious, isn't it? His continued existence has kept you from focusing on what you truly want, which is to be free and with those you love. You don't want his throne. You want to be free to live your life as you see fit, without any strings."_

Harry thought about that. It was true, he realized. At one point in time, he would have wanted to take over as the new Dark Lord, but now, such things seemed pointless. The world resisted change at every turn. Grindelwald had failed, Voldemort had failed, and Harry knew that he would fail too if he followed in their footsteps.

There was a sound like shifting water and Harry felt himself being pulled back out of his mind. The last thing he saw before returning to proper consciousness was Hermione smiling at him.

He opened his eyes and found himself in the center of the bath, the water still warm and an even warmer something pressed against his back and around his abdomen. He looked down and found slim, pale arms wrapped around him. He turned his head and spied brown curls against his shoulder. "Hermione?"

She shifted slightly, tightening her grip on him. "I am sorry."

Hermione nodded mutely.

"I'm going to end this, as soon as I can," he said. "I've grown weary of this war."

"What about the Horcruxes?" Hermione asked. "Barty took them."

"I know," Harry sighed. "We'll just have to get them back."

Hermione lifted her head up and looked at his face, seeing only half of it as he turned to look over his shoulder at her. "How?"

Harry frowned. She wasn't going to like this at all. "We use what leverage we can to get him to return them."

Hermione didn't look convinced. "But what leverage could we possibly use to get him to cooperate? You've said yourself that Barty doesn't have anyone he cares about."

Harry smiled without any real trace of happiness. "That's what he would have people believe. I know better."

"Then what?" Hermione asked.

"It's not a what, but a who," he corrected. He felt Hermione stiffen. "His mother."

Hermione slid her arm from around him and Harry immediately missed the warmth. She floated around in front of him, her hands coming up to cup his face, her chestnut eyes meeting his emerald. "Harry, are you sure this is the only way?"

Harry shook his head. "No. But it's the only way I can think of right now," he admitted. "Threatening Barty himself won't work. He'd die before caving. His father is out of the question; Barty would be more likely to just kill the man himself. His mother is the only option. He loves her, I know he does. I've seen it. I don't want to do it, she seemed a kind lady, but she was dying already. It would almost be a kindness to kill her. End her suffering. Barty might not see it that way though and we may be able to use that as a way to get him to hand them over."

Hermione shook her head. "I don't like this, Harry. Killing the innocent isn't who you are."

Harry closed his eyes. That was true. Despite being a killer, even he had a code. He never killed children and didn't kill without a reason. He wasn't the type to just kill someone randomly without cause; that was Voldemort's _modus operandi_ , not his.

"I don't like it either," he admitted. "But we all must do things we don't want to do. I don't want to kill Mrs. Crouch, but if it gets the Horcruxes back, it is a necessary evil. I don't want to kill Barty, but I will."

Hermione looked up at him with sad eyes. She swallowed thickly and swam to the edge of the bath, climbing out and wrapping a towel around her. She then walked out of the bathroom without a glance back, her head hung low and her eyes downcast.

Harry just floated there, staring unseeingly at the place where she had just been. It must be done, he told himself over and over. It must be done.

It must be done...

 **XXXX**

 **A/N: All right. That's another chapter down. Be sure to let me know what you all think. Leave me some feedback!**

 **SO VERY SORRY for taking so long. This weekend was a bit off for me.**

 **A huge THANK YOU to everyone who had read and reviewed, favorited and followed. You guys are awesome and i appreciate all of the warmth and support you all give me.**

 **Until next time.**

 **-Atrocity.**


	32. A Death in the Family

**XXXII. A Death in the Family**

Harry's eyes were sad. He was standing in the doorway of his and Hermione's room looking at her form as she lay, unaware of his presence, in their bed,, on her side, arms curled against her breast, knees slightly bent, hair splayed across the pillow, eyes closed, breathing slow and steady, her face calm and relaxed, looking for all the world to be at peace and without a worry.

Harry knew better.

He stepped fully into the room and closed the door behind him, softly, so as not to wake the slumbering beauty that he loved so much. It was this love that presented his current dilemma.

After he had told her his plan to use Barty's mother as leverage to get the man to return the Horcruxes, if he hadn't already given them back to Voldemort, she had become distant. She didn't speak much and spent her time locked up in the study, reading. She took her meals there as well. He knew that she was upset with him and he also knew why. What he had proposed was something that he would not normally have suggested. He may have been cold and hardhearted, but he wasn't heartless. He had already proven that, and that was what he was certain was bothering her the most, that he would do something that was so seemingly heartless.

But, he didn't see another way.

He took comfort in the fact that after three days, she was still there. She had said more than once that she was not leaving him, and she was proving as good as her word; if she had wanted to leave, she would have done it by now and there was nothing he could do to stop her if she did; not that he would try to do such a thing regardless.

On top of this was his fear as to whether Barty had returned the Horcruxes to Voldemort.

If that were the case, it was more likely they were already scattered to the winds and Harry's search would have to begin anew. But, he knew Barty well enough to know that if he gave them back to Voldemort, he would have to explain to him how he knew what they were and how he had gotten hold of them. That was something Harry wanted to know too.

No, it was more likely Barty still had them, hidden somewhere where Harry would not find them, and neither would Voldemort.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, being careful not to wake Hermione, and reached out with his one hand, lightly running his fingers over her soft chestnut curls. He sighed. He didn't know what to do. Not for the first time, he thought that things would have been easier if he didn't love her, but he also knew that he would not wish it to be so. After having had this taste of love, it would be a lonely, empty existence without it.

He had to find another way.

He glanced at the window, noting that the darkened sky was beginning to lighten as dawn approached, as his fingers continued to ghost over Hermione's hair. She would wake in a couple of hours and he would have to suffer with her distance again. He sat quietly for a long moment, just enjoying be close to her like this. He could not lose this.

He had to find another way.

With another sigh he leaned down and kissed her forehead gently, eyes closing for a moment. Then, he stood up and left the room, taking one last look at the sleeping witch before closing the door behind him.

He had to find another way.

 **XXXX**

Hermione laid completely still, her breathing slow and even to give the illusion of sleep. When he heard the door close again, she allowed her self to relax and turn onto her back. She gazed up at the ceiling, not really seeing it. She knew that she should be trying to go back to sleep, but also knew that it was a lost cause. She had not slept well in three days. And last night had been the worst. Harry had not come to their bed last night. The previous two nights, he at least laid beside her, on the opposite side of the bed, but there all the same. His presence had allowed her to rest, knowing that he was still there with her. But last night, she had not fallen asleep until deep into the night when exhaustion finally took her. And she had only slept for a couple of hours at best.

She had been awake when Harry came into the room, felt his gaze upon her. She pretended to sleep. Then she had heard him close the door and almost thought he had left until she heard his soft footfalls approaching the bed. She almost jumped when she felt the mattress beside her dip as he sat down, then when his fingers began touching her hair. She had calmed then, and his stroking had almost lulled her back to sleep, but then she heard him sigh and then kiss her forehead. And now he was gone again.

She knew he was suffering without her attention, and that though he thought he did, he didn't understand it. She had been so distant since that day in the bath. And she hated it. She didn't know why she was so upset with him. Sure, what he was suggesting was horrible, but he had done so much worse than that already and she had not had as much problem with it. She didn't like some of the things he had done, but she didn't hate him for them. She loved him. And she knew he loved her too. So what was the problem?

She speculated that her emotions were just on edge from the talk she had had with Walburga's portrait. But, that didn't explain it all. Then there was the pain she was still feeling for what she had done to her own parents. Obliviating McGonagall had brought those memories back fresh and strong, like ripping a bandage off a wound that had just been covered. She was honestly surprised that the older witch had not stopped her; she easily could have. Maybe she didn't want to remember any of it.

That would make more sense, she decided. All that had happened of late, from her injury at the Ministry to Harry torturing Dolohov, to her visit to her parents' house, to finding out that all of Harry's hard work with Dumbledore was now potentially undone. All of it had taken a toll, such a great toll, in such a short time. The idea that Harry would threaten and ultimately kill the mother of his best friend – brother – was just the straw that broke the griffin's back, as it were. It wasn't Harry's fault, not really. He was mostly reacting to what others had set in motion. Retaliating. Voldemort created Horcruxes, the darkest of dark forbidden magics, that spat in the face of death, and Harry reacted by joining Dumbledore's mission to find and destroy them. Death Eaters infiltrate Hogwarts and corner Harry and Dumbledore, Harry killed Dumbledore to keep up appearances and give the old wizard a proper, honorable death. A Death Eater killed his brother, Harry killed the Death Eater. Neville tried to kill her, Harry cut his head off and displayed it as a warning against further attempts. A Prophecy was revealed to have information about Harry that the enemy could exploit, Harry went after it himself. Hermione was cursed by a Death Eater, Harry punished and ultimately killed the Death Eater and added his head to the display. The Horcruxes were stolen by his best friend turned enemy and Harry responded the only way he knew how. Death.

It was just the way he was. The way the world had made him. He knew little else. He had been created in darkness and crafted into a weapon by those who sought to wield that darkness; used like a puppet on a string. Then, the puppet cut the strings and was showing those that sought to wield him what darkness truly was. Dolohov had discovered how deep that darkness went, and she suspected that he had only seen a glimpse of it.

Nietzsche once said that when one stared into the abyss, the abyss stared back. Harry had lived in the abyss, and the abyss lived within him. It was a part of who he was, a part of his soul. Again, as Nietzsche had said, Harry was a forest, a night of dark trees. But, also true to the German philosopher's words, Hermione had braved that darkness and found roses beneath those cypresses. She knew there was more to Harry than just the monster, and loved him, all of him...even the monster.

She closed her eyes and sighed. She would have to show Harry that she still loved him. She hadn't left, and she never would, and he had seen that, she was sure, but he still should know.

She laid there until the sun peeked through the curtains and began to brighten the room.

She rolled out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom, stripping herself bare before filling the bath with hot water. Steam curled up off of the surface and she stepped inside, the heat burning her skin and causing it to flush red at just a touch. She didn't care. It felt good. She felt her muscles relax in the head and leaned back against the side of the bath, eyes closing.

She soaked until the water was just warm and then ducked her head under and began to wash herself thoroughly.

Before she emerged, she heated the water back up with a wandless heating spell and let the heat envelope her. When she stepped out of the water, steam surrounded her, trailing off her skin in swirling tendrils. She caught sight of herself in the mirror and for a moment felt that she looked an ethereal goddess. But soon she began to take note of her own flaws, as she usually did. Hair too bushy, breast not as impressive as many girls her age at Hogwarts had – Susan Bones and Lavender Brown came to mind – legs a bit too thin...Harry had never noticed any of these things the way she did. He didn't see the flaws in herself like she did. That was something that had drawn her to him early on. That, and his mind, which rivaled her own. It was refreshing and genuine. Then, she had fallen in love with the man she had seen in him. When it was revealed who he really was behind that mask, she had been shocked and hurt, but soon came to realize that the mask presented was only half-false. She had seen pieces of him that were there still and had fallen in love all over again. And, eventually, she had come to love the monster as well.

She smiled. It was a classic beauty and the beast story. The only difference was that she didn't try to convince Harry that he wasn't a beast. He was. But he was _her_ beast and she wouldn't trade him for the world.

She dressed casually and made her way down to the rest of the house, expecting to find Harry in the parlour, where he had been spending a lot of time the last couple of days, alternating between quiet meditation and solemn contemplation as he stared at the mantle and the two heads that adorned it, but he wasn't there. She checked the kitchen. Empty. The dining room. Empty. She went down to the basement, which had been thoroughly cleaned by the Elves, but the chains and instruments remained. Empty as well. The study. Empty.

She went to Lily's room, knocking on the door urgently. She was beginning to panic.

Lily opened the door a moment later as Hermione was about to knock again, her red hair disheveled from sleep and her eye-lids heavy. "Hermione?" she asked groggily, rubbing her eyes. "What's going on?"

Hermione bit her lip. "Have you seen, Harry? He's not in the house. I've checked everywhere."

Lily took note of Hermione's worry and shook her head. "No, but I'll help you look. Give me a moment." She closed the door and Hermione waited impatiently until she came back out with a robe on and some fluffy slippers on her feet. "You check upstairs, I'll recheck downstairs."

Hermione nodded and went up each landing, checking every door she saw. He wasn't in any of them. Then, a thought occurred to her. Maybe he was on the roof. He liked to go up there to think sometimes.

She ran to the attic and threw open the window, climbing out onto the roof, ignoring the churning in her stomach at the heights. She looked around, expecting him to be sitting or laying somewhere up there, but he wasn't there either.

She felt tears start to prick at her eyes as irrational fear burbled up inside her and brushed them away roughly. She didn't have time to cry. She had to find Harry!

 **XXXX**

Harry looked up at the Rook-shaped house as he stepped out of the treeline. The sun was rising behind the hills in the distance, painting the sky a lovely shade of orange and pink.

He paused a moment, taking in the sight, just soaking in the beauty of it all. Given how messed up everything had become of late, he wasn't sure if there would be much beauty left in his life for long. He ran a hand through his hair, moving it away from his face.

He walked up to the front door, noting that the window was open, meaning that someone was awake. He knocked solidly three times on the door and waited. He could hear the sound of dishware being moved and then the sound of footsteps.

The door opened a moment later and Xeno smiled down at Harry with a surprised look on his face. "Ah, Harry." He opened the door wider. "Do come in, please."

Harry stepped through the door and followed Xeno into the kitchen where a kettle was boiling over a fire. Xenophilius set about placing another cup and saucer on the tea tray he had been preparing. He also added a container of honey for Harry. Harry took a seat at the wooden table by the wall, leaning his head back against said wall in a tired fashion.

"So, Harry," Xenophilius started while pouring milk into a small dish on the tray, causing Harry to lift his head back up. "What brings you here so early in the morning. Luna won't be up for a short while yet."

Harry waved this off. "I'm not here for Luna. Not specifically anyway. I need some help."

Xeno smiled. "Your will, my hands."

Harry chuckled. "No, no. Nothing like that, Xeno. No, I need some advice. Some council, if you will."

Xeno picked up the kettle as it began to whistle and poured the boiling water into the teapot, then added the tea leaves. He walked over to the table and set the tray down in the center. "If I can help, I will." He poured two cups of tea and passed one to Harry, who took it gratefully and began preparing it with milk and honey. "What exactly is the problem?" he asked, sitting down at the table opposite Harry, blowing gently on his tea before taking a sip.

"You know of course that Voldemort created Horcruxes," Harry stated, sipping his own tea.

Xeno nodded. "Yes, Luna filled me in before your visit to us and I seem to recall it coming up a few other times."

"You know what they are?"

"I do," Xeno said grimly. "Vile magic of the darkest sort. My wife learned of them in her time as a spellcrafter. She came across them in some obscure tome, I do not know the name of. But she told me about them, and I, in turn, told Luna of them and to be wary of such things. She tells me that Voldemort created at least six of these things."

Harry nodded. "Yes. Well, you see, Dumbledore and I were hunting them down before I killed him. We had five of them. They were being kept in a secret drawer in his desk at Hogwarts, but the night I killed Albus, Barty stole them. I don't know how he knew about them or how he got in to get them but he did. Now, they're gone. I know he still has them. Revealing that he has them to Voldemort would be too big a risk. I need to get them back, but I'm stumped. I do not know what to do."

"I often find that the best way to get around an issue is to look at it from a different angle," Luna said, entering the kitchen, dressed in a sundress that changed colors every few seconds. "Hello, Harry. Morning, Daddy," she smiled, sitting down on another chair at the table.

"Hello, Luna," Harry returned the greeting, raising his teacup to her before taking a sip.

"Good morning, moonflower," Xeno smiled at his daughter.

"You should get some perspective," Luna continued.

"What ideas did you already have in mind," Xeno asked Harry while Luna prepared her own tea.

Harry sighed. "I thought I'd kidnap his mother and hold her hostage until he hands them back over. And if he won't, I'd kill her. Barty loves his mother, and I just know that he would hand the Horcruxes over if he thought she was in danger."

Luna hummed. "I bet that idea went over well with Hermione. Seems a bit heartless, no?" She gazed at him with her wide silvery eyes. "That's why you're here. Hermione has been distant and you want to make things right between you."

Harry just sighed again. Leave it to Luna to see right through him...or read his mind...even though she promised not to... "Yes," he admitted.

Luna smiled knowingly at him. "You should try some thinking poses. I have a few favorites that I think might help you get some perspective on your issue, and see things from a different angle."

 **XXXX**

When the floo flared up and Harry stepped out, Hermione was practically livid. She marched right over to him and before he even had a chance to utter a simple 'hello' she had drawn back and punched him solidly in the nose.

Harry reeled back, blinking rapidly as his eyes began to water. "Blimey, woman! What the bloody hell was that for?"

Hermione glared. " _That_ ," she bit out, "is for just up and disappearing this morning. You could have at least left a bloody note, your arse!" She shoved him back another step, her breathing was heavy and she could feel tears welling up again. She wiped at her eyes angrily, cursing her emotions for being so out of whack. "Do you have any idea how worried I've been?" she demanded, tears falling down her cheeks.

Harry opened his mouth to respond but Hermione launcher herself at him again, this time to wrap her arms around his middle, burying her face in his shoulder, her shoulders shaking as she cried.

Harry wrapped his own arm around her, feeling completely off-kilter. He thought his nose might be broken again...

"I thought you had left," Hermione whispered in a broken voice. "I thought...I thought you'd had enough of me. I know I was giving you the cold shoulder but I didn't want to push you away. I'm sorry!"

Harry tightened his hold on her, rubbing her back gently. "Hermione, how could you think that? I'd never leave you. I love you."

Hermione sniffled. "I know. I love you too. I just...My emotions have been all over the place of late. I...I was so scared." She burrowed her face deeper into his shoulder as if she were trying to melt into him. "I'm sorry that I've been ignoring you. I'm sorry I over-reacted. I-"

"Hermione," Harry cut her off. "Please, stop apologizing. It's okay. It's all okay."

Hermione pulled back and wiped her eyes with her shirt sleeve and the base of her palm. She sniffled again and smiled up at him. He smiled back, but she instantly flushed with guilt and shame as she saw that yes, she had indeed broken his nose; there was also a trail of blood running out of one nostril.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said again, ignoring the look Harry gave her; considering that he had just told her to stop apologizing. She drew her wand and pointed it at his nose. "Hold still. _Episkey_!"

Harry flinched as the bone snapped back into place and his nose straightened back to normal. His nose felt very hot for just a moment before going cold and then back to normal temperature. Hermione put her wand away and reached up, running a finger over the bone, making sure it was all fixed properly. She nodded, satisfied with her work, then cleaned the blood with another silent spell.

"Thanks," Harry said.

Hermione shook her head. "It's the least I could do, Harry. I shouldn't have hit you. If it had been you hitting me, or if you had hit me back, which you had every right to do if you had wanted, you'd be vilified. It's only fair that I acknowledge my own misdeed. I know you told me not to apologize anymore but I am sorry."

Harry shrugged. "I probably deserved it."

Hermione shook her head again, her expression very serious. "No you didn't," she asserted firmly. "That's abuse, any way you slice it."

Harry smirked and leaned down, placing his face barely an inch from hers. "Really? I call it foreplay." Before she could say anything, he had used a bit of magic to lift her off the ground and used his single arm to pull her body against his, capturing her lips in a searing kiss as he did so. Before she even knew it, he had her pinned on her back on the sofa, his mouth blazing a trail from her mouth down her neck, her back arching, pushing her body even closer to his as she felt her body respond to his touch.

If this was what it was like making up, she thought, then they needed to fight more often.

 **XXXX**

Harry was pretty sure the blood rushing to his head was not helping his brain think any better than before, like Luna had suggested it would.

He was currently sitting, sort of, in a rather comfortable chair in the study, his back against the seat, his feet crossed at the ankle by the top of the chair and his head hanging off the front, his long hair hanging down to the floor. He had been like this for several long minutes now and no new ideas were coming to him, despite his best efforts. He'd already tried standing on one foot while balancing a book on his head. If this didn't work, he was supposed to try some muggle drug called cocaine, which Luna had read about in a book called _The Sign of the Four_ , in which the hero, Sherlock Holmes, injects himself with a dose of cocaine to stimulate his mind. Harry had never heard of the drug in his study of the muggle world, but he had heard of Sherlock Holmes and knew that he was supposed to be some famously intelligent and capable detective. He had read one of the novels, he remembered, called _The Hound of the Baskervilles_ , and had thoroughly enjoyed it. Probably helped that he loved a good mystery. Which is why he had decided not to fret and try to think logically about how to get past this new obstacle before him.

He was just about to give up on this venture when Hermione stepped into the room, a copy of the Prophet in her hand. She opened her mouth to speak but stopped short when she saw the position he was in.

"Erm, Harry, what are you doing?" she asked, her tone suggesting that she thought that he may have finally gone round the bend.

Harry smiled at her upside down visage. "I am searching for some perspective," he told her, smiling a bit at her confused expression.

"Perspective?" she asked, still confused. "Perspective on what?"

"On the problem of how to get the Horcruxes back from Barty," he clarified. He reached up...er, _down_ and rubbed his forehead. "I must say, I do not think I am making much progress."

Hermione nodded as if she understood, but her face clearly said that she didn't and still was considering that he may have gone mad when she wasn't looking. "And you're hanging upside down, why again?"

Harry shrugged. "I'm honestly not sure myself. Luna suggested it. I already tried balancing a book on my head while standing on one foot. That certainly did not work, though she did say something about it needing to be a book pertaining to whatever you were thinking about. Not sure if I buy that but if it works for her..." He shrugged again. "She suggested I try cocaine next."

Her started, dropping the paper she was holding. "What?!" she squeaked.

"Cocaine," Harry repeated. "Some sort of muggle drug that is supposed to stimulate the mind or so she claims. I've never heard of it."

"I know what cocaine is, Harry," she scowled. "And it isn't something you want to go around messing with. It isn't as good as some people would have you believe. Where did Luna even get that idea from?"

" _The Sign of the Four_ , by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle," Harry answered, scratching his beard.

Hermione frowned. "A Sherlock Holmes novel? Really? That's what she's basing her logic on? Even that book acknowledges that cocaine isn't good for you!"

Harry frowned. "Well, if it really is that bad then I won't use it. I wouldn't even know how to get my hands on the stuff anyway, let alone know how to actually use it. I suppose I could have Dobby or Kreacher find some but if it doesn't really help you then what's the point?" Harry cocked his head. "So, where you needing something or just looking for some company?" he asked, wriggling his brows at her, making her flush, remembering their vigorous make up session earlier.

Hermione cleared her throat and knelt to pick up the Prophet. "Actually, I thought you should have a look at this, as it pertains to your terrible plan." She handed him the paper. "Page two."

Harry opened the paper to the second page and looked at the headline.

 **CROUCH MATRIARCH DEAD!**

 **Madam Elnora Crouch (57), the wife of current head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Bartemius Crouch Sr., died late last night due to complications with a recurring case of Black Cat Flu. Healers at St. Mungos report that while her body had been able to repeatedly fight off the virus with the help of potions, each recurrence left her weaker than before and her body could no longer handle the strain to her immune system. Mrs. Crouch is survived by her husband Bartemius Crouch Sr. (63) and her son Bartemius Crouch Jr. (34). Funeral services will be held next week on W** **ō** **dnsd** **æ** **g (Wednesday).**

Harry sighed and tossed the paper aside. It vanished and reappeared perfectly folded on a table nearby. Harry scowled at whichever Elf had done that. It was getting ridiculous.

"I guess that throws a wrench in that plan. It's a good thing that I've been trying to find an alternative to it."

Hermione nodded, and went over to the paper again. "There's more, actually," she said, handing the paper back to him.

Harry frowned as he took the paper. He waited for Hermione to tell him which page but she just crossed her arms beneath her bust and raised her brow at him. Harry furrowed his brow and looked at the front page. Well, how had he missed that?

 **TERROR IN DIAGON ALLEY!**

 **DEATH EATER ATTACK LEAVES 13 DEAD!**

Harry skimmed through the article, and glanced at the pictures that accompanied it. There was no mention of any of the names of the dead – save mention of a family known as Peasegood that had all been killed, save for Arnold, who was pictured holding his dead wife and daughter while silently screaming – and all of the images were of common Death Eaters, as marked by their simple skull-faced masks. He saw no inner circle members amongst them. An initiation for new recruits, or as Barty like to call it, the Blooding Ceremony. It was basically a way for new recruits to earn the Mark and prove that they were truly committed to the cause. There hadn't been a proper Blooding since the day Harry had killed Podmore.

It would seem that Voldemort was trying to bolster his ranks in the wake of the losses he had suffered of late. First Bellatrix, Selwyn and Gibbon; then Shunpike, Avery, MacNair and Nott; then Rookwood and finally Dolohov. And that was just the dead. Rowle, Malfoy the younger, Malfoy the elder, Crabbe Sr., Goyle Sr., Parkinson, Travers and Jugson were all captured and in Azkaban – with the exception of the two Malfoys, who were being heavily questioned by the Anti-Death Eater Task Force, thanks to James and Sirius' inside knowledge that Voldemort's headquarters were at Malfoy Manor, thanks to Harry. They just needed a confession to make a move, but the Wizengamot was putting off their petition to use Veritaserum on them; for whatever reasons. Harry hated politics.. The only Inner Circle members left were Barty, Rabastan, Rodolphus, Amycus, Alecto, Yaxley, Greyback, Wormtail and Karkaroff; the latter of whom wasn't even on British soil at this time, being occupied still with the growing political tension in his homeland of Bulgaria.

All in all, it was nine known combatants, counting the Dark Lord himself, against Harry's own nine. Even odds. But there was also the ten or eleven known fighters of the Order still to worry about. Harry knew that if it came down to it, he would have to kill the Order as well as Voldemort's forces. He just didn't think he had the man-power to fight a two-fronted war. Perhaps if he had handled things with the Order a bit better they would still be working with him. Then again, he couldn't change his nature.

He looked at the picture of the man and his family again, committing it to memory. The man was young, at least in his later twenties or early thirties, with long hair, his wife was blonde and pretty, and his daughter innocent. It was the sight of the child that had his stomach churning. He didn't condone the murder of innocents, and the name Peasegood stirred something in him; it was familiar and yet he could not place why at the moment.

"So, Voldemort is taking his war into the open again. What do you expect me to do?" he said, tossing the paper again, hiding his look of disgust. He scowled as it vanished and reappeared folded again. "Ruddy House Elves," he muttered under his breath.

Hermione rubbed her forehead as if it were aching. "Well, we could take the fight to them," she said, as if it were obvious.

Harry smirked. "Brilliant, Hermione. We'll just do that then, shall we? Only one problem," he held up...er, down, a single finger. "We don't have the Horcruxes. We kill his body, his soul goes out and hides and we get maybe ten to fifteen years of peace, if we're lucky, and then he comes back and we have to do this all over again. I for one don't want to do that."

Hermione shot him a glare. "Have you considered that if we do that, it will give us free reign to hunt the Horcruxes?"

Harry grew thoughtful. "Explain!"

"Okay, Mr. Dalek," she raised a brow at him, daring him to get the joke.

"Ha ha," Harry said making a rude gesture with his hand.

Hermione just shook her head. "Charming. Now, as I was saying, if we kill Voldemort's host body, he'll be left in an incorporeal state, right?"

Harry nodded. "That's the definition, yes." Hermione glared. "Sorry. It's seems that blood rushing to my head makes me an arsehole."

"You were always an arsehole," Hermione corrected him, smiling to take the sting out of her words.

Harry nodded. "Fair enough. So, what you're saying, if I'm following your train of thought properly, is that if we kill his body and leave him as basically a wraith, we'll be able to hunt the Horcruxes without worrying about having to fight him."

Hermione nodded. "Right."

Harry smiled at her. "It won't work." He held up a hand to forestall any protests. "Let me explain, love. Okay, so, yes, we destroy his body and he's out of the way. Brilliant. However, my earlier point still stands. Say we do that and then destroy the Horcruxes. He can still come back."

"Because the main part of his soul would still be out there just waiting for a way to take physical form again," Hermione said, Harry's reasoning becoming clear. "Why didn't I think of that?"

Harry didn't bother answering that. "So, while it would mean that he was completely mortal and thus much easier to kill next time, he'll still come back. And again, I'd rather not have to fight this war again, regardless of the outcome. Hence, it is easier to just destroy the Horcruxes now and then kill the bastard, that way we get it all over with in one go."

Hermione nodded again, seeing his point. "Okay. Well, before any of that, we need to get your arm back," she said, pointing at his still-missing limb.

Harry looked down...up, at it too. "Oh, yes, quite right."

"We should have everything for the ritual here, and I've got the incantations memorized, so we can do it on the next new moon, which is in three days." She turned to leave again, then stopped, turning back. "Oh, and Harry, being an arse to try and get me riled up again so we can have make-up sex again, isn't going to work."

Harry laughed as she went out the door. "All evidence to the contrary, my love!" He saw her hand appear back in the doorway, returning the rude gesture from earlier before disappearing again. "HA!"

Hermione stepped back a moment later. "Harry?"

"Hm?" he asked, levitating a book from a nearby shelf over to him.

"Why aren't you worried about the attack this morning?"

Harry looked over at her. Even upside down he could read her expression clearly. She was scared. Not of him, but of what was yet to come.

He sighed and dropped the book to the floor beneath his head, where it landed with a solid _thud_ He ignored Hermione flinch and wounded expression at the treatment of the tome. It wasn't that far a fall, he reasoned, it wouldn't hurt the book. "Well, you see, those," he pointed at the paper, "are not Death Eaters, not proper ones anyway. What that was was a trial, of sorts, called 'The Blooding'. Essentially its taking a bunch of hopefuls, dressing them up all scary-like, pointing them in a direction and saying 'kill'. They do it, they get in. They don't, they die. They are untrained and little more than peasants with pitchforks in a battle of warriors. They do fine in attacks like that because no one is fighting back. At the slightest hint of resistance they break and run. Voldemort uses them as what the muggles affectionately call cannon fodder. Or, not so affectionately. Whatever. You could call them redshirts too, but I have no idea where that term comes from. I remember Barty using it once." He shrugged. "Basically, they are sent to die, and hopefully take a few of the enemy with them. If not, at least they make a good distraction."

Hermione looked appalled. "That's totally barbaric."

Harry chuckled and shook his head. "No, love. That's war."

"War is the business of barbarians," Hermione countered.

Harry snorted. "Napoleon, a warlord." He raised a brow at her. "A bit hypocritical, don't you think?"

Hermione pursed her lips. "Perhaps, but he was right. War does no good for anyone and is no place for civilized men."

Harry shook his head. "I disagree. War does a lot of good. It brings peace, for one, when the dust is settled. One could try to argue that peace can be gained without violence, but I challenge you to point out one time that that has ever worked."

Hermione thought for a long moment, then sigh and waved a hand as if the answer would appear. Nothing.

"See, even you can see the truth of matters. Those who act like sheep, will be eaten by the wolves." He grinned at her. "And besides, I would rather be called a barbarian than a civilized man. A civilized man is more discourteous than a savage, because in a civilized world, they know that they can be impolite without having their skull split."

Hermione opened her mouth, then closed it again just as fast.

Harry sniggered. "You were about to say that that was barbaric weren't you?"

Hermione flushed and looked away from him, pouting. "Maybe."

Harry rolled sideways, throwing his legs so than he spun off the chair with his feet under him and then walked over to Hermione, ignoring the sudden lightheaded feeling that swept over him. He used his one hand to pull her closer to him and kissed her on the cheek. "It's all right. Just chalk it up to the difference of the worlds we were raised in. I am a barbarian, no doubts, but I can play the role of the civilized man if I must. A wolf in sheep's clothing, if you will. But, would you have me any other way?"

Hermione shook her head, her cheeks turning pink. "Not for the world."

Harry kissed her again, this time on the mouth. "Then let's agree to disagree and move on. Unless you want to admit that you're wrong; because you are."

Hermione snorted and slapped him lightly on the chest. "Prat."

Harry chuckled. "You love it."

"I do," Hermione admitted. "Doesn't mean I like it though."

"That's a contradiction," Harry pointed out.

"Is not," Hermione retorted.

"Is so."

Hermione pouted again for a moment before resorting to her best defense: sticking her tongue out at him.

Harry seized the opportunity to kiss her again, caressing her tongue with his own after muttering, "Real mature, Granger." He pulled away a moment later, leaving Hermione with a dazed look in her eyes. "Now, come on. Let's go over the particulars of this ritual we're gonna orchestrate."

 **XXXX**

 **A/N: All right. Another one down. I know it's late but I was feeling a bit burned out and decided to take a bit of time off. It's helped. Don't worry, I haven't given up on this story, despite a bit of a drop-off in reviews, and am already a few chapters ahead to give me some breathing room. Anyway...**

 **Some nice little character moments and interactions. I honestly just love writing the little conversations that don't really pertain to the overall plot. They're so fun and real. I base them off of real conversations I've had with friends, family and romantic interests. Well, I hope you all enjoyed this. The next chapter will detail the ritual and also have Mrs. Crouch's funeral.**

 **The climax to this story is drawing nearer and nearer. Soon, the battle will begin and this will draw to a close.**

 **Until next time.**

 **-Atrocity.**


	33. The Circle

**XXXIII. The Circle**

Harry scratched his beard with a thoughtful expression on his face. Hermione was sitting across from him at the dining room table and the rest of their friends...allies - the line was unclear in the this regard - Charlie, Bill, Fleur, Xeno, Luna, Nymphadora and Lily were all gathered there with them. All in all, there were nine of them present. The magic number achieved.

"Okay, let me go over this one more time," Hermione said, consulting her notes; rather unnecessarily if Harry was to give his admittedly honest yet biased opinion. " _Eir, gyðja miskunar! Gefðu okkur þinn lækningar anda! Gróa! Gróa!_ " She looked around at every as they repeated it back to her as a group. "Again," she commanded, her visage stern. "One at a time. We can't afford any mistakes in this. I don't even want to consider what will happen to Harry if something goes wrong."

So, they repeated the chant over and over until Hermione seemed satisfied that they had it down. Harry didn't really need to do any of this, as he was the ninth part of the ritual, the centerpiece, the one to be healed. He only needed to know the last part of the chant and it was just one word. Not that difficult at all.

Hermione nodded to them all and smiled as they each repeated back the incantation without a single mistake. "Good." She looked down at her notes again. "Okay, I think we should go over the actions again."

A groan escaped from Nymphadora and her head fell forward onto the table with a dull thud, followed by a small whimper. "Come on, Hermione, we've already gone over it all six times today. I think we've all got it down."

Hermione scowled. "Yes, but it has to be perfect or-"

"Or it won't work. We know," Bill, said, not unkindly. "We know what's at stake here, Hermione, and we've been gong over all of this for two days now. Cramming on the day of an exam is a set-up for failure."

Hermione shook her head, some of her hair falling loose from the high ponytail she had hastily pulled it into before the meeting. Her eyes were wide with worry and no small amount of determination. "This is a lot different than a simple test, Bill, this is a dangerous, ancient ritual that hasn't been used in over a thousand years. We have to be ready. It has to be _perfect_. I don't know what will happen if even one thing goes wrong. I don't want to even consider it." She swallowed thickly. "Harry could die."

Harry reached over and patted her hand, drawing her gaze. Her eyes were glistening slightly. "Maybe we should take a break."

Hermione shook her head. "We don't have time for that. We only have twelve hours before we have to perform this ritual."

"And I'm sure that everyone here needs to get some rest before then." He stood up and looked at the others. "All right, everyone. Take the rest of the afternoon to yourself. Rest, relax. Whatever. Just be sure to be at the predetermined location before midnight."

The others nodded and stood up, filing out of the room, their exit followed shortly by a loud clatter and crash accompanied by Nymphadora's loud, wailing curse as she was once again laid low by the ever-persistant wrath of her mortal enemy, the Troll Leg. Harry smirked as he heard Bill and Fleur's peals of laughter.

Luna gave Hermione a small smile of understanding before following her father out of the room. Soon, it was only Harry and Hermione left.

Harry lowered himself back into his chair and sighed. "You should get some rest too," he said, looking at Hermione, who was now poring over her notes, muttering quietly to herself. She didn't seem to have heard him. "Hermione," he tried again, but she was lost in her own world, mind working frantically over the issue at hand. He could see her going over the chant again and again. Her pronunciation was perfect already. This was just Icelandic; she had learned to read, write and speak Old Norse in Ancient Runes, even some Proto-Indo-European reconstruction from a few surviving magical texts, just as he had when Barty taught him. She had this down. She knew she did. He knew she did. She was just worrying herself unnecessarily.

He took in the view of her eyes, bloodshot and with dark circles underneath, both clear evidence of her not having slept at all in almost three days. It was a common Hermione habit, he knew but that didn't mean he liked it. More than once he had seen these same symptoms on her during his time teaching at Hogwarts. She was a hard worker, there was no denying it, but she held little to no regard for her own welfare when it came to things like sleep and eating, especially when there was a problem to be solved or a project to undertake. He had to put a stop to this or she'd work herself to death.

"Hermione, love, stop," he said, grasping her hand, which was reaching for another piece of parchment. She froze, then turned to look at him, slowly.

"What is it, Harry?" she asked, concerned.

Harry shook his head at her, letting his concern and love shine through his gaze. "Hermione, you've been working non-stop for two days to get this all ready. You've got the process, the chant. You've even gone and prepared the circle. You need to rest too."

Hermione swallowed and shook her head, pushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear with her free hand, and looked back at her notes. "I can't rest yet, Harry. Not until I know this will be perfect. It has to be. I won't lose you."

"Hey, it won't come to that. I trust each of them to get this right. Why? Because I trust you to have prepared them for it." He squeezed her hand, which he still held in his. "But I can't trust you to be ready if you are dead on your feet."

Hermione bit her lip, a nervous mannerism of hers that Harry found irresistibly cute. "I'll be fine."

Harry had had enough. He stood and pulled her up with him. She went reluctantly. He pulled her in close and wrapped his arm around her.

Hermione settled against him after a moment of standing rigid. She sighed. "There are too many unknowns in this ritual, Harry; too many variables. I don't like it. It doesn't say where the healing magic comes from. We aren't performing any magic ourselves. The chant is just to invoke a god to do it for us. I don't believe in gods, Harry. How can I put my faith in something like this?"

Harry nodded. "I've never put much stock in gods myself, but our ancestors did, and it worked for them, so why not for us too? Besides, faith is just belief based on an absence of data. That's not the situation we find ourselves in. You have the data. You've done the research. This isn't faith, Hermione, it's knowledge. And knowledge is your power."

Hermione took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "You're right." Harry knew how difficult it must have been for her to utter those words, especially since she only half believed them.

Harry smirked. "And besides, it's not a god. Eir is a goddess; or Valkyrie, depending on who you ask." He shrugged as if to say 'Whatever'.

Hermione snorted in a very unladylike manner, basically telling him how unimpressed she was with his minor observance and correction. "Details, who needs them?"

Harry squeezed her slightly. "That's my line, love. The details are your area of expertise, after all. So, tell me, is the circle ready?" He hoped that this question would distract her.

Hermione nodded. "I've got the torches, the stones, carved the runes, carved the circle itself. I've prepared the blades. It's all in a perfect clearing. The alter is ready too."

Harry nodded too. "Good. And you and the others know the chant. You each know what you have to do."

"Yeah," Hermione said, her head still resting on his shoulder. " _Eir, gyðja miskunar! Gefðu okkur þinn lækningar anda! Gróa! Gróa!_ Basic translation: Eir, Lady of Mercy! Give us your healing spirit! Regrow! Regrow!" She shrugged. "Or something like that. It's the best I could get from the Runes with so little time available. Translating from Runes to Old Norse into modern Icelandic is difficult on the fly, what with the variations in the spellings and the intricacies in the grammar and structure and all that. I hope it works. It should."

"Then where's the problem?" Harry asked.

Hermione smiled and rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. "There isn't one," she reluctantly admitted. "Not that I can see anyway."

Harry pulled back and looked down at her. "Then you have no reason not to go and get some rest, then." He raised a brow, silently daring her to argue with him.

Hermione bit her lip again. "I really should go over the circle again." She tried to step out of Harry's embrace, but he held her fast.

Harry shook his head, his stance stern. "Nope. Sleep."

Hermione let out an exasperated sigh. "Harry, I can't-"

Harry rolled his eyes. There was nothing else for it, he decided. He'd have to take matters into his own hands; literally.

Without missing a beat he reached up and cupped her cheek with his one hand, effectively cutting her off. "Yes, you can." He then sent a pulse of magic out of his fingertips and into her head, forcing her directly into a sleep-state. She slumped to the side but he caught her quickly with his one arm, then he used a bit of wandless magic to levitate her up and began floating her out of the room.

He took her up to their bedroom and placed her in the bed after removing her shoes, jeans and jacket. He pulled the blankets up over her and kissed her forehead. "Sorry about that, but, it's for your own good." He straightened up. "You'll thank me later."

She probably would be more likely to hex him but that was beside the point. The point was that he had won this round and Hermione was getting the rest she needed, whether she wanted to or not; desperate measures and all that. She'd be rather upset with him when she woke up but he could more than handle it. She was quite stunning when she was angry and he enjoyed the show more than one on the receiving end of a Hermione Granger dressing down should.

He exited the room, closing the door behind him, locking it with a flick of a finger. He was descending to the next landing when he saw his mother walking up toward him.

"Is she all right?" she asked as Harry drew closer to her position on the second landing.

Harry smiled and nodded. "Oh, yeah. She'll be fine. Just needs some sleep." He drew level with Lily and ran a hand through his hair. "She works herself too hard sometimes."

Lily nodded, glancing up the stairs to the general area that Hermione was in. "She's always been like that. I remember having to basically ground her when she would visit during the holidays and try to spend days on end in the Potter Library, reading every book she could get her hands on. And I've received countless missives from Flitwick expressing concern over her habit of overworking, especially around time for exams." She looked at Harry's missing arm. "But, she isn't the only one who doesn't know when enough is enough."

Harry frowned. "You don't need to remind me that this is my fault. If I had been more careful with the Dark Mark, or if I had just done what I should have done and killed Barty at the Ministry then we wouldn't be in this situation right now and Hermione wouldn't be working and worrying herself to death."

Lily shook her head. "That's not what I meant, Harry. Not exactly. I was just pointing out that neither of you have any real regard for your own safety or health. One of many traits the two of you share."

Harry nodded. "Well, I guess its a good thing that we both care more about each other than we do ourselves. At least when we neglect our own needs, the other is there to either take care of it themselves or force the other to do it. It's a vicious cycle." His smile said that he would not have it any other way. "Well, I'm off to get some tea."

Lily followed him into the dining room again, where a tray of tea was already waiting, two cups already poured and prepared as per their personal preferences.

Harry sat down and one of the cups lifted off the tray and floated over to him, the other doing the same for Lily as she sat down as well. "I'm expected to be at Elnora's funeral service. James will be going as a colleague of Bartemius. I have to keep up appearances, after all."

Harry nodded. He had already expected as much. "I know. I suspect there will be quite a few Aurors there. A lot of important people too. And more than one Death Eater. Particularly one that I wish to have a few words with."

Lily looked at her sole surviving son with something akin to sadness. "Yes, Barty will be there. It's his mother, Harry."

Harry nodded again. "I know. It would be a bit cold of me to attack him when he's burying his mother. But, then again, I didn't get where I am by being considerate of my enemies. However, I fear something more sinister to be at hand. If I were the Dark Lord and had enough followers in positions of power – people who are going to be expected to show up at this funeral – I would have them attack the other powerful people there. Weaken the Ministry's seat of power by toppling the support beams, if you will. Bartemius Crouch, James Potter, Sirius Black, Rufus Scrimgeour, Sasha Savage, Percy Weasley, Arthur Weasley, perhaps the rest of the family, Robards, Williamson, the Lynch brothers, those two American Aurors, Amos Diggery, possibly even the Minister himself; they'll all be there. It's practically a silver platter with a who's who of the Ministry just waiting for Voldemort to strike it. Now, with that many Aurors on hand, it would be foolish to do it without an advantage. Which is where having people like Barty, Yaxley and the like right there, hidden in plain sight."

"You really think he'll try something like that?" Lily asked, her eyes wide and her voice almost disbelieving.

Harry shrugged. "It's what I would do. It's what Barty would do."

Lily shook her head. "He didn't seem like a bad person at the Ministry, Harry. Even when he was torturing you, it was like he was doing you a favor. And he stopped as soon as Hermione pointed out what he was doing to you. Then, he defended and even tried to help Hermione after that one brute kept hurting her. And you also have to consider that he didn't kill you, even when he had you incapacitated."

Harry frowned at her as if she were growing a second head before his eyes. "What are you suggesting?"

Lily gave a helpless gesture. "I'm not. I just...It doesn't add up."

"Well, I guess we just should consider ourselves lucky that Barty wasn't as cruel as he could have been." He stood up and began pacing. "You don't think I've considered all of this? I have. I've replayed that whole battle over and over. All I can think is that he was under orders not to kill me. Or, as the Prophecy states, he isn't the one who is meant to kill me and some form of Universal magic was holding him back from it. I don't put much stock in the latter, so the former, by default, must be the truth. Until further evidence proves or disproves that." He leaned against the table. "I wish I didn't have to fight him. He's like my brother. But, he chose his side and I chose mine. We must play the roles we are given, after all."

"What will you do then?" Lily asked after a long, pregnant pause.

Harry sighed and dropped back into his chair, taking a long sip of his tea. "I'll be there, in disguise. If a fight breaks out, I can take the opportunity to try and take Barty alive. If I can't get him, at least I can level the playing field a bit more by weakening Voldemort's forces by killing the attackers. If nothing happens, then I'll pay my respects to my best friend's mother and be on my way, hopefully with said best friend in tow."

"He may come quietly, if you ask him to," Lily said, hope in her voice.

Harry wished he could share in some of that hopeful naïvete, but he knew better than to allow himself that luxury. Hope for the best, prepare for the worst, was the common saying but for Harry it was simply prepare for the worst, plan for better.

He had no doubts about Barty still caring about him. What he doubted was whether that was enough. So far, Barty had not extended the hand of friendship beyond to tell Harry to come back to the Dark Lord.

"I wish that were true." And he really did.

 **XXXX**

As predicted, Hermione was none too pleased with Harry when she awoke from her magically-induced forced slumber. Hurricane Hermione had torn through Grimmauld with all the fury of an angry god and Dobby, Kreacher and Lily had all abandoned Harry to deal with this himself, mysteriously disapearing from the house at the first signs of Hermione's awakening.

Traitors.

Which was how Harry had found himself in an impromptu duel with his lover, who seemed more intent on causing pain than in actually hurting him; most would say that those were the same thing, but Harry would disagree vehemently.

As it stood, they were circling the dinning room, the table between them. The walls and chairs had already been demolished to splinters. Harry absently noted that the Elves were going to simultaneously thrilled and annoyed at the mess. Well, Dobby would be thrilled. Kreacher would be right miffed, but at least neither of them would be bored for a time.

So, it was will a small smile of amusement that he deflected yet another stinging jinx with a minimal flick of his wrist.

"You are a right bastard, you know that?" Hermione bit out as he sidestepped another hex.

Harry shrugged. He wasn't going to argue with her there. He resisted the urge to point out rather innocently that he couldn't actually be a bastard as his father was both alive and a known entity, but that would not do anything to quell this sudden uprising.

"I did what I thought was best for you, Hermione," he said, shielding himself against a body-bind.

"It was a dirty trick," she countered. "I trusted you!"

` Harry scowled mildly. "You act like I raped you or something." He dodged again. "And, I'll have you know that I am thoroughly insulted to be treated as such. I have never done anything of the sort."

Hermione paused in her tirade. "What? I never said anything of the like!"

Harry sheepishly smiled. "Just making a point." As he said this, the remains of a chair exploded in front of him, showering him with splinters.

"That's not something to joke about, Harry," Hermione snapped.

Harry dusted off his sleeve. "You're right. It was in poor taste and I'm sorry, but the point still stands. You," he pointed at her with his wand, "are overreacting."

Hermione's expression twisted with annoyance. "Overreacting?" she growled. "You knocked me out!"

Harry dodged another curse. "I did not 'knock' you out. I put you to sleep. There's a difference. And besides, you needed it."

Hermione seemed to not be able to find the words to express her frustration at his logic so she released a monosyllable noise somewhere between a growl and a shriek and blasted the table with a silent, or more accurately 'wordless', _Bombarda Maxima_ , causing the table to basically explode, sending a hair of splinters and wood fragments in all directions.

Harry erected a shield just in time to keep himself from getting a shard of wood through the eye, doing to the same for Hermione, who was silently glaring at him while her chest rose and fell steadily with her deep breathing. Her hair, normally kept at least somewhat neat was only half left in the ponytail it had been in earlier and her cheeks were flushed a rather pleasant shade of crimson. Harry found himself rather distracted by this as he moved around the table toward her.

"Feel better, now?" he asked as he came level with her.

Hermione scowled up at him and then without warning kicked him hard in the shin. He instinctively lifted it away and she responded by kicking the other one. Again instinct took over and he found himself laying the ground, groaning after having forgotten for a moment that he had only one arm and that his other leg was not planted to support his weight when the second blow landed.

"Yes, now I do," Hermione smiled down at him.

Harry smirked up at her. "Clever witch," he grumbled.

Hermione sighed and let herself sag down to her knees beside him. Now that her anger seemed to have run its, albeit short, course, she was exhausted, again. With a small laugh she turned and dropped herself unceremoniously onto Harry, her head and shoulders resting against his abdomen.

"You look like you could use a nap," Harry pointed out innocently, lifting his hand up to examine his fingers ponderously.

Hermione slapped his chest with the back of her hand while he laughed. "Prat." She couldn't help smiling either. "I swear, if you weren't already missing your arm I would tear it off and beat you with it."

Harry looked at her with something akin to admiration. "I would pay to see that. I really would. That, that would be impressive." His eyes twinkled with mirth.

Hermione scowled in a good-natured way and huffed. "Shove off, you git."

Harry chuckled and let his head fall back onto the floor. "In all seriousness, love. You really did need the sleep though."

Hermione groaned and closed her eyes. "Yeah, I know. You could have gone about it better though."

Harry shrugged. "I went with the best option I had before me. You would have fought me every step of the way otherwise."

Hermione nodded grudgingly. "True. But it was still a sneaky, cheap move. Luring me in like that and then striking when my guard was down. You sure you weren't a Slytherin?"

Harry chuckled. "Probably should have been," he admitted. "Doesn't really matter much now. Besides, the Raven is a cunning and clever bird, so I don't think it's just the Slytherins who have right to be sneaky and underhanded. They're just more obvious about it."

Hermione hummed in agreement as lay there with her eyes closed. "Ravenclaw's symbol was an Eagle, not a Raven."

Harry sneered. "One of the most annoying contradictions ever in the history of Hogwarts. It's in the bloody name. RAVENclaw. Not Eagleclaw, RAVENCLAW! Come on people, it's so simple!"

Hermione giggled at his vehemence. "Maybe Rowena thought an Eagle was smarter than a Raven. Or more majestic and powerful."

Harry scoffed as if this idea were absurd. "Then Rowena was an idiot."

Hermione narrowed her eyes and rolled over to gaze up at him. "Harry, did you just call one of the four founders of Hogwarts, arguably one of the greatest witches to ever live, an idiot?"

"Yes," Harry answered flatly, not seeing the issue.

Hermione dropped her head back onto his stomach with a long-suffering sigh. "I can't even begin to tell you how wrong that is."

Harry shrugged. "Well she was if she could make that obvious a mistake. Even you can see the blatant misrepresentation there. After all, you and ravens have something in common; you're both pretty, cunning, clever birds."

Hermione snorted and bit back a burst of laughter. "Oh, Harry, that was so cheesy."

Harry sighed dejectedly. "All a bloke can do is try. Flirting isn't my forte, after all."

Hermione shook her head. "No, but that was bad, even by your standards. And flattery won't help you here!"

"We'll see."

Harry chuckled and poked her in the side of the head, making her jump and swat at his hand. "Oi, no, keep those evil fingers away from me, you villain!"

Harry chuckled again and wiggled his fingers menacingly at her, moving them slowly toward her, grinning.

"Deviant," she accused as she shifted away from his reach.

The sound of the door opening drew both of their attention, but not before Harry had seized the opportunity and lightly poked Hermione in the side of the head again, earning him a solid punch to the knee, to which he groaned and rubbed the spot.

"If you two are done trying to spur each other into an angry shagging session, we have a ritual to get to," Nymphadora smirked at them, wiggling her eyebrows before ducking back out of the room as they both fired hexes at her.

"She's right," Harry said after a moment. "Come on, let's go." He stood up and pulled her up too, wrapping his one arm around her. "I can't wait to hold you with both arms again," he whispered into her hair.

Hermione smiled and nuzzled against him. "Me too."

Outside, Nymphadora fell victim to the tireless machinations of the ever-ready Troll Leg for the second time that day, her loud cry and cursing bringing no small about of joy to the couple.

 **XXXX**

The clearing was roughly fifteen meters across in all directions, give or take. The trees around the perimeter were tall and healthy and the grass beneath their feet was soft and springy. In the center lay a large, long stone that was roughly flat on top and more than wide enough for Harry to lay comfortably within a ring of Elder Runes that Hermione had carved there with painstaking precision. They were essentially a reconstructed Rune Poem that spoke of healing and openness.

At the top two corners of the stone, where Harry's head would lay, there were two candles burning with a magical fire that would not go out with the wind. Another of these was placed between his feet.

A wider circled of nine small fires burned between him and the others, who had all stripped down to a bit of simple cloth undergarments, the women with a single strip of plain fabric to cover their breasts; the men stood bare-chested. Each had a single Rune drawn over their hearts. Harry had one too, Thurisaz, the Rune of Thor, representing force and will and change, regenerative power and catharsis. Effectively a cleansing flame, compacted into a single marking.

Hermione and the others stood in a wider circle beside eight stones, similar to the one Harry would lay on in shape but much smaller in size. Each of them had a small, ceremonial blade carved from black stone, sharpened to the finest of edges by magic. These were probably the most important tool of all. The ritual called for a blood sacrifice, after all.

Harry looked down at the blade in his own hand and tested the weight of it experimentally. He looked around at the others, each of them watching Hermione, who was looking at the sky as if looking for some sort of sign, which he supposed she was. Finally, after a long few minutes, she seemed to have seen whatever it was she was looking for because she lowered her gaze to his and nodded, her expression stony and determined.

He smiled at her, hoping to convey that he had absolute faith in her and knew that she could do this. He knew that if something went wrong, Hermione would lay all of the blame at her own feet. She was the one to get all of this ready, so it would, by default, be her fault if something went wrong. Not that Harry would blame her, but she was a proud woman and any mistake would be seen as utter failure in this regard.

"It's time," her voice resounded through the still night and they all heard her as easily as if she were standing right next to them. Harry nodded and lifted his own blade, bringing the point to the Rune over his heart and pressing until he felt the pain of the blade piercing his flesh. He flinched but slowly dragged the blade down, then slid it back up and cut down at an angle, then sharply back, completing the Rune. He gasped as he withdrew the knife, now coated in his blood. He smeared some on his hand wiped it across his face, muttering, " _Eir..._ " quietly, eyes lifted to the heavens.

He then crawled on to the stone, laying the knife beside him, letting the blood stain the stone as well. The Runes carved into the stone began to glow a vibrant red as the blood seemed to be magically pulled into them.

Hermione and the others lifted their own blades and as one cut deep into their palms, smearing the resulting blood over their own faces, each intoning the name of the goddess they were seeking favor from as they did. The flames around them flickered slightly as a small gust of wind blew through.

Again as one, they placed the daggers to their chests, much as Harry himself had, and carved the Rune there, while rhythmically chanting the name " _Eir_!"

Finally, this done, they touched their hands to the wounds and let their blood coat their fingers. As one they began chanting " _Eir, gyðja miskunar! Gefðu okkur þinn lækningar anda! Gróa! Gróa!_ " while placing their hand on the stone beside them. The runes on the stones began to glow the same as the ones by Harry had done.

They continued to chant while the Runes glowed brighter and brighter.

Harry could feel a cold feeling creeping through his body, starting at his fingers and toes and working their way through the rest of him. He was shivering, his body shaking. His breathing was fast and heavy and then the cold began to grow warm, then became blinding hot as the Runes were now glowing so brightly that one could see nothing else but the glow. Even the Rune on his chest was glowing now. He screamed, feeling like someone had just shoved a white-hot poker into his chest.

Then he felt it, a sharp, creeping pain in his shoulder, the one that no longer had an arm attached to it. It began to spread down and he wanted to look down but some unearthly force was holding him fast to the spot. His body, though trembling and convulsing with pain, could not move more than a half inch. His screams persisted but the pain did not cease, nor did the backgroud sound of Hermione and the others chanting " _Gróa!_ " over and over again.

Harry felt the pain reach where his fingers would have been and then everything went unusally quiet. The Runic glow faded from the bloody red into a softer, blue, then there was a impossibly bright flash of white and he felt the pain intensify for a single, terrible moment, and then...

Everything went black.

On the outside of the circle, everyone else was still chanting, not being able to see what was going on through the glow of the runes, which had gone from red to blue and then to a blinding white before suddenly there was no light at all. Even the fires had gone out.

Hermione gasped as she realized that the Rune on her chest had been healed. The ritual was done, and had seemingly worked. With an excited cry, she ran forward to the center stone where Harry lay. "Harry!"

She reached his side and found him unmoving. Her eyes took in the arm that was not there before. It looked as full and strong as the other. It had worked. She had been so worried that it wouldn't and Harry would be left even more wounded than he already was or worse that he would die. Oh, she was so happy. She felt a smile blossom on her face as she turned to look Harry in the face, only to have it fall away when she realized that he was not moving.

"Harry?" she asked, gently, hoping to get an answer in return. Nothing. She shook him lightly. "Harry, wake up." Still nothing. She was beginning to panic now and the others had gathered around her.

"Is he..?" Fleur asked, looking at Harry's still form.

Hermione felt tears sting her eyes and she shook her head vehemently. "No. No he can't be. I did it all to the letter. I know I did. I know it!" She was crying now and reached for Harry, shaking him harder this time. "HARRY!"

She felt a pair of strong arms pull her back. "Hermione," Bills voice spoke into her ear. "Hermione, come away. Let Charlie have a look." She struggled against the long-haired redhead's grip but he proved far too strong for her to break free.

Charlie was at Harry side in an instant, fingers pressed to the pulse-point in his neck, face pinched in concentration.

"Please don't be dead, Harry. Please don't be dead. I won't ever forgive you if you die. Please," Hermione kept whispering to herself over and over. "Please, I'll forgive you, just come back," she took back her previous statement.

Finally, Charlie lifted his eyes to meet hers. "He's alive, Hermione. I've got a pulse here. It slow, but it's strong and steady. My guess, is the magic from the ritual put him into a deep sleep to aid the healing." He looked at the new arm. "It is remarkable, what the ancients could do with magic. Put's some of our modern methods to shame." He lifted said arm and turned it back and forth. There was no Dark Mark to be seen; in fact, not a single blemish could be found.

Bill had released Hermione and she went directly back to Harry's side, her fingers going to the place Charlie's had just been at his neck, feeling for the pulse herself, for some reason not trusting someone else's word on the matter. She gave a great sigh of relief as she felt it.

She leaned down and kissed Harry's forehead. "Thank you," she murmured. "For everything." She pulled back and looked at each of the others, noting with a blush that they were all, herself included, still wearing basically nothing. She shivered, suddenly feeling cold and exposed in the night. "Let's get dressed. We need to get him back to Grimmauld. Can't have him catching his death out here after we just went through all of that to heal him."

The others agreed with her logic and set about robing themselves before Charlie lifted Harry off the stone slab and apparated away with him, Hermione following a moment later.

 **XXXX**

Harry stirred. His body was stiff from having laid in the same position for too long, but his mind seemed clearer than it had in a long, long time. He recalled with perfect clarity the events before he had lost consciousness. The ethereal glow of the Runes, the searing agony as he sliced his own flesh, the warmth of the blood, the chill that overtook him, the white-hot pain as he regrew his lost limb. All of it.

Absently, he lifted his left arm up and opened his eyes to gaze at it with something akin to child-like awe. It was flawless as far as he was concerned, a near-perfect mirror of his other arm, with no perceivable difference between either of them.

He sat up, feeling a blanket fall from around his middle to rest against his thighs. He looked around, his attention momentarily drawn away from his new appendage. He was back at Grimmauld, in his and Hermione's room. He looked to the other side of the bed, expecting to find Hermione there, but she was not there. Where was she?

He pulled back the covers and swung his legs over the side of the mattress and stood. He was intent to leave the room in search of his lover but thought better of it as his body decided to remind him that it had needs too.

So it was with a sigh that he walked into the loo and relieved his aching bladder. As he was turning from the sink after washing his hands, he caught sight of himself in the full-length mirror on the back of the door. His body was the same as he remembered it, wiry muscle on a shorter than was common frame, shoulder-length dark hair and a beard that teetered on the edge of being stylish and being wild. What was new, was the scar on his chest. He remembered feeling it healing and it leaving a faint imprint, but at the time he hadn't realized that it was a scar.

He reached up gingerly and ran his fingers over the slightly raised tissue, tracing the lines he had carved into himself with a stone blade. While he did this, he pondered that requirement, as stated explicitly in the instructions in his book, that the runes be made with a blade in a single uninterrupted motion. He remembered reading in that same book that the reason for this was to prove the resolve of the participants and show that they were worthy of whatever it was they were seeking. A cutting curse was too easy and proved nothing of the resolve. Using one's own physical strength to split their own flesh and shed their own blood was a form of sacrifice that old magic seemed to require more often than not.

Thurisaz. The Rune of the god Thor, equivalent of the Anglican sound _th_ – the letter þ being a direct descendent of this Rune and representing much the same sound – translation meaning 'thorn' in the Futhorc, based on its shape, which basically looked like a thorn on a vine or more vaguely a spear, though Tiwaz bore closer resemblance to that particular shape; in the Elder Futhark it was called Þurs (Thurs) meaning 'Giant'. Thurisaz, much like Algir (Algiz) was essentially a protection Rune. Thor, the god associated with it was called the Protector of Miđgard (literal translation: middle yard, but later called Middle Earth, and then just Earth) or the Protector of Mankind, and thus this Rune was believed to extend that protective aura to the wearer or caster. It was also purported to enhance the reproductive prowess of males and increase their stamina. Normally, Harry wouldn't put much stock in this, but given the manner in which this Rune had come to be marked upon his flesh, he wondered if perhaps he and Hermione should take some extra precautions the next time they were intimate.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't hear the door open in front of him, but the movement caught his attention and he looked up to find Hermione standing there in the doorway, looking him over with obvious relief, but her eyes raked over him with evident concern.

Harry, for the first time in what felt like forever, opened his arms to her. Hermione wasted no time in rushing forward and throwing herself in his embrace. Harry happily wrapped both arms around her and held her close.

They stood there in comfortable silence for several moments, neither wanting to break the spell that seemed to have fallen over them.

Harry hummed. He could hear music coming from the direction of the bedroom. It was a slow tune, almost melancholy...no, bittersweet, that was the sound of it. It captured that sound perfectly. He had heard it before; Hermione hummed it to herself sometimes while she was getting dressed.

He could feel himself begin to sway slightly to the rhythm, the soft melody.

Hermione felt it too and looked up at him, frowning curiously at him. "What are you doing Harry?"

Harry just hummed along with the song, smiling down at her and tightening his hold on her as he continued to sway to the melody.

Hermione tentatively smiled back and followed his movements with her own body. Soon, Harry had gently led her into the bedroom, still holding her close and practically dancing her along. She smiled a bit more as he spun her and pulled her close again, dipping his head and kissing her tenderly.

Hermione giggled. "You like the music, Harry?"

Harry nodded. "I do. What's the song?"

Hermione leaned her head against his chest. "It's called 'O Children', by Nick Cave. He's a muggle singer from Australia...I love his music."

Harry nuzzled his face against her neck. "It's growing on me."

Hermione giggled as she felt his arousal pressing against her abdomen. "I can tell."

Harry grinned and captured her lips again, dragging her to the bed. He had both of his arms back and he was going to make full use of them now. His earlier thought was all but forgotten.

 **XXXX**

 **A/N: All right, this is another chapter done. It was originally part of a larger chapter that went on into the funeral of Mrs. Crouch but I felt this was a better stopping point. I had to change the title from it's original of 'No Place For Gods' into the current one after making the decision to change it up. The healing scene was actually longer in the original version of this chapter as well, and involved the actually appearance of the deity, but I decided to cut all of that at the last minute as if felt too contrived and not at all fitting with the overall theme and feel of this story.**

 **Well, THANK YOU to all who reviewed, followed, favorites and read. You guys rock.**

 **Now, leave me some love.**

 **Until next time, my friends,**

 **-Atrocity.**

 **PS: Yes, I know that O Children was not actually released by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds until 2004 on the album Abattoir Blues/The Lyre of Orpheus, but if the films can use it in 1997/8 then so can I. Plus, it truly is a beautiful song and I really wanted to work it in since it was such a perfect but bittersweet moment in the DH film. That, and I just love Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, so yeah. I regret nothing.**


	34. The Killing Field

**XXXIV. The Killing Field**

Throughout history there have been three distinct forms of disposal and honoring of the dead that have remained prevalent from antiquity into modern times. Those three are burial, cremation and mummification. Other methods, such as cannibalism and the act of simply leaving the deceased where they died were also common, once upon a time, but the previous three were the most widely accepted and by far the most well-documented.

Burial was common all across Europa, the Americas and parts of Africa. As was cremation. Mummification was more common to Asia and the Middle East and parts of South America.

The cultural reasoning for which ever of these was used was varied and sometimes even so much so that two neighboring tribes could do different things for equally different reasons despite living relatively near to each other.

Burial was believed to allow the spirit of the deceased to linger nearby and look in on their family, or in some cases inhabit a new host. There was also some evidence that pointed to the spirit being able to reanimate the corpse for purposes of either protection of the burial mound or even for revenge. Such examples included the Draugr of Scandinavia and the Mummies of Egypt; both of whom were cursed and able to exact bloody vengeance on those who dared to disturb their resting places.

Cremation had much the opposite effect as Burial. In most cultures it was believed that burning the body freed the spirit of the deceased from their shell and allowed them to travel beyond to the next life more quickly; this stemmed from the belief that if the body was left to decompose on its own, the soul would have to remain trapped inside until the entire process was complete. Such cultures as the Norsemen practiced both burial and cremation and in both cases were known to bury and/or burn their dead with a collection of worldly possessions, as either to take them with them to the next life – in the case of cremation – or to allow them something to occupy themselves with and eventually pass on their their descendents – as with the practice of burial.

Mummification was in many respects similar to burial, except that the body was preserves for far, far longer, sometimes even thousands of years. Some cultures believed that this allowed the deceased to re-inhabit the body at special times during the year and spend those times in the company of their living descendents. There were some places in the world where the dead were removed from their resting places once every year and returned home with the family for a meal and other such social settings before being returned to the gravesite.

All in all, Harry found cremation to be the preferable choice, all things considered. The rest of it just made his skin crawl. He would rather his body be destroyed so that, regardless, he could just get a move on and go to the next life. Not that he believed any of that about the soul being trapped to the body after death until the body was either destroyed or decomposed; which amounted to basically the same thing, but better safe than sorry.

No, this world was for the living and – with some notable exceptions, such as ghosts – the dead had no business sticking around after their time had come. He wasn't sure what to make of ghosts. There was absolutely no evident from either end to determine why they were still tied to this mortal plane. Harry had asked one of the ghosts at Hogwarts, a Sir Nicholas, why he was still here, even though he was dead. He had not been able to give an answer and had floated off with a ponderous expression on his face, seeming to have forgotten that Harry was still standing there. Much the same had happened when he approached Professor Binns, the resident History of Magic teacher and magical sleep-inducer extraordinaire. Of course, Binns had hardly ceased his droning lecture on Goblin Wars – to an entirely empty classroom, one might note – to even consider the question. Needless to say, Harry had given it up as a lost cause.

Maybe they were all just too damned stubborn to actually die properly.

Now, what had sparked this line of thought? Well, that was simple. It was the funeral. The burial of Mrs. Elnora Crouch to be exact. It was today.

He stood in his and Hermione's room, donning an all black outfit with a hood that would do the job of obscuring his features and portraying him as no more than a common mourner. He had tied back his hair so as to keep it out of his face should a fight break out and to allow his hood to fit over his head better.

Hermione walked into the room from their bathroom, drying her hair with a flick of her wand.

Harry followed her movement, taking in her bare, lithe form as she set about finding something formal, yet functional to wear.

Death and the rituals that followed it he understood, but one thing that he was still having difficulty in understanding completely was Hermione's loyalty to him. She, for all intents and purposes, had basically accepted that he was a known killer and former Death Eater with barely a couple of weeks of deliberation. Was love so powerful a thing as to overcome such things as pre-programmed morals and values. He knew that she didn't agree with his methods or the things he had done in the past, but she never brought it up, nor did she seem all too bothered by it all. Sure, she visibly recoiled when faced with visual evidence that he was not as reformed as he pretended to be at times. Like when she had seen what he and Charlie were doing to Dolohov. Or when he had planned to kill Elnora himself. He knew that that part of her was still in there, but she kept a tight hold on it. Why? Did she think he would look down on her if she disagreed with him or showed her discomfort with killing and torture? If that was the case, he needed to assure her that this was not the case. He had been earnest when he said he didn't want to change her. Nor was he willing to change himself too much.

He had noticed that Hermione was not as opposed to killing as she had once been, but that was because she understood the need for it. When it was not necessary, she still was not keen on it. It was a small change in the grand scheme of things, but also one that constituted a major shift in who she was. But, it was a change that she had made on her own and he contented himself with that knowledge.

Hermione must have felt his eyes on her because she looked over at him a mixture of concern and amusement playing across her features in turn. Amusement when she thought he might be watching her lustfully – she was nude after all – but it turned to concern when she saw the almost troubled, thoughtful expression on his face.

"Harry?" she asked, "everything all right?"

Harry started. "Hm? Oh, yeah. Fine."

She pinned him with a dubious look as she pulled on her knickers. "You don't sound fine," she pointed out, donning her bra.

Harry smirked, admonishing himself for being so transparent. "Just thinking, is all."

Hermione smiled teasingly. "Should I call Madam Pomfrey?"

Harry huffed and pointedly looked away from her.

Hermione giggled as she wriggled into a pair of dark pants that doubled as both formal slacks and functional combat attire. As was the close-fitting dark, long-sleeved top she pulled over her head, tucking it into the pants before buttoning them. Over this she donned a plain black felt vest. Her hair was pulled back into a high ponytail with a few stray strands falling down to frame her face.

"So, what were you thinking about?" she asked, stuffing her foot into one of her boots.

Harry shrugged and sat down on the edge of their bed. "Just...you know...how much things have changed."

Hermione came over and sat down on the bed beside him after pulling on her second boot. "A heavy subject," she observed. "What exactly were you thinking about, as far as changes go?" Her curiosity burned bright in her eyes, belying the tender nature of her words.

Harry looked at her meaningfully, silently willing her to get the hint.

Hermione wasn't the smarted witch of a generation for nothing. "Me," she guessed, her smile slipping a bit.

Harry nodded. "Yeah. You've changed since we first met. Not by much, mind you, but noticeably."

Hermione nodded and cocked her head. "How so? Explain it to me." She had some idea of it, but she, as usual, wanted to hear it from him, in his words.

Harry cleared his throat uncomfortably and shifted his weight a bit on the mattress. "Well, for starters, you aren't as...opposed to violence as you used to be. When I first met you, there was absolutely no way you would have gone into battle with me let alone stood by and let me torture a man. Not that that is any surprise. You couldn't even break a rule, so how could you be expected to break bone? But, by the time the end of the school year rolled around and I killed Dumbledore, you had already broken rules with me and, with Luna's help, aided me in breaking the law. And it just went on from there. Now, you're going into what could possibly be a four way battle between Death Eaters, the Order and Ministry and ourselves."

"I followed you into the Department of Mysteries," Hermione pointed out.

Harry nodded. "Exactly my point. And you Obliviated your parents, and Professor McGonagall. The old you would never had even considered doing something like that."

Hermione looked down, suddenly finding her boots to be very interesting.

"I'm not saying it's a bad thing," he hastened to add. "Just something I noticed."

Hermione smiled tightly. "I just did what had to be done," she offered.

Harry smiled. "I know." He sighed and stood up, grasping her hands and pulling her up with him. "We need to get going. The funeral begins in an hour. I want to get there early and get the lay of the land." Hermione nodded and made to head out of the room, but Harry did not release her hands, drawing her back. "Don't think too hard on it, love. I didn't mean any of it in a bad way."

Hermione's lips curled up at the corners a bit. "I know," she told him. "It's just something for me to think about. You've changed too you know."

Harry raised a brow. "Explain."

Hermione smiled a little brighter now. "All right, Dalek Harry." Harry huffed but Hermione ignored it. "You've changed, and I don't just mean from the facade that you presented at Hogwarts, which I still have my doubts about how much of it was faked and how much was real. There was a time when you couldn't even fathom the idea of love. I know you never said anything about it, but I could see it. You looked at displays of affection like they were completely alien to you. Now, you embrace them easily."

Harry looked down at their joined hands. "Only because you helped me to."

Hermione shook her head. "Give yourself some credit, Harry. You played a part, too. You let yourself grow, for the first time in what I can only guess to be years. I think, before that, the only growing you did was in magical skill and strength and physical ability. You didn't care about people, you didn't know love because it was never shown to you – except the brotherly affection from Barty – you were emotionally stunted. You could fake the emotions easily enough, but you didn't really feel them. I would have almost thought you were a sociopath if the evidence to the contrary wasn't so clearly standing before me now."

Harry smiled in a self-depreciating manner. "Come on, we have to get going."

Together they left the room and made their way down the stairs until they reached the parlour. Lily was waiting there for them. "There you are," she greeted, looking relieved. "I have to go to Potter Manor."

Harry had expected as such. "Be careful. I don't trust James or Sirius. Or Remus for that matter."

Lily looked doubtful. "I don't think they would try anything. Not on a day like today."

Harry returned the look of doubt. "A day like today is precisely the kind of day they would try something." He sighed before the conversation could go further. "Get going. Just be careful, like I said. We may have had our differences in the past, mum, but you've stood by me. I'll not soon forget that."

Lily smiled with motherly affection and hugged him. "I know you fear the worst for today, but have a little faith, son."

Harry returned the hug. "Faith is just belief based on an absence of data."

Lily chuckled and shook her head as she pulled back. "You never stop, do you?"

Harry's face was serious. "No."

Hermione, seeing the tense turn of the conversation stepped up and hugged Lily too. "Harry's right, Lily. You need to be careful."

Lily hugged her young friend and ward with a tender look in her eyes. "Not you too," she said with false lamentation.

Hermione sniggered and pulled back out of the embrace. "What can I say? He's a bad influence on me." She poked Harry in the side as she said it.

Harry swatted lightly at her. "Don't go besmirching my good name, Granger. I am a perfect gentleman."

Hermione raised a brow. "Oh, really? Who was it that lured me to their private chambers at Hogwarts to have their way with me?"

Harry scowled. "Name the bastard."

Hermione scoffed. "It was you, you prat."

Harry shook his head. "That is not what happened. Don't believe a word she says, mum. I'm innocent."

Lily looked between the two of them, trying hard to keep a straight face. "Okay, children, behave yourselves. We have a very important task ahead of us."

Harry nodded. "Get Barty, one way or another."

Lily smiled again. "Prepare for the worst."

"Plan for better," Harry finished. "Go. James will be waiting, I'm sure. Don't show him your back. Bastard is a coward and if he tries anything, it'll be when your back is turned. We'll see you at the cemetery."

Lily hugged them each once more before grabbing a handful of floo powder and calling out 'Potter Manor', then stepping into the brilliant green flames and disappearing.

Harry and Hermione walked down the hall to the front door. They were the only one's left in the house.

Bill and Fleur, who had been staying with them until recently had moved out into a little seaside property called Shell Cottage and Charlie was alternating between staying with them and in a spare room here at Grimmauld. At current, he was will Bill and Fleur, all three of them were aware of the plan for today and would be traveling to the funeral together, separate but as part of the Weasley family, who were invited because Percy had been Mr. Crouch's assistant. He had also long been acquainted with Arthur do to the fact that their jobs sometimes crossed over; Arthur's Office was part of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and Crouch was both a previous and the current Head of that Department, thus making him Arthur's boss. Not to mention that they were distant cousins to the Crouches.

Lily was now gone to accompany James, who was an Auror and a sort of friend to Crouch, as was evident by the dinner they had attended over the Yule holiday. Sirius too. Remus would be there as an honorary member of the Potter family.

That meant that at least nine members of the Order would be there, along with the seven remaining members of the Task Force (not counting Sirius and James). As for Harry's forces, only himself, Hermione, Lily, Charlie, Bill, Fleur, Xeno and Luna would be there. The latter two were only there as members of the press, the Quibbler being granted permission to cover the services, along with a representative from the Prophet. Harry suspected that Crouch would not be happy about that but the Ministry probably saw it as a chance to capitalize on the public's sympathies to gain further favor for themselves.

Stepping out onto the quiet London street, Harry grasped Hermione's hand and waited for her to nod, letting him know she was ready. When he received the nod, he focused on the grounds just outside of Crouch Manor and with a _crack_ they were suddenly gone with the feeling like being squeezed through a tube at high speed and ejected from the other end, their surroundings a blur.

When everything came back into focus, they found themselves in a wooded thicket not too far from the cemetery, which was just behind the land on which Crouch Manor sat. It was a family cemetery where generations of the Crouch family had been laid to rest; much like Godric's Hollow was for the Potter family and its close relatives. This place, Cross Hill – Cross being the original name of the Crouch family, the name evolving over time, much as the Potter name had – located and magically hidden in Surrey, was filled with the dead from five distinct families: the Crouches, the Peasegoods, the Longbottoms, the Weasleys and the Blacks. The five had been neighboring clans in the days before the Ministry and often fought over this land. Eventually the five families called a truce and intermarried. The Peasegood family, the Longbottoms, the Weasleys and the Blacks would eventually venture elsewhere; the Blacks to London, and the Peasegoods to Crawley, the Longbottoms to Headley, the Weasleys all the way to Ottery St Catchpole in Devon and the Crouches stayed here where their Hall was located. But all of the families still buried their dead here.

Not too far from here was a place called Little Whinging, a muggle village where Lily had told him some of her living family still lived; her sister Petunia and her husband Vernon, along with their son Dudley. Harry absently wondered what they were like, but dismissed the thought. He doubted he'd ever meet them and so it didn't really matter what they were like.

He led Hermione through the thicket until they came out onto the sloping hill that was covered in headstones, spreading out in all directions. In the distance he could spy an area where two fresh graves had been dug and filled back in. A ways beyond that, closer to the Manor, was another fresh grave, this one empty, as the dirt was still in a large mound beside the hole.

They made their way toward this area, winding slowly through the rows of gravestones. As they walked Harry was looking around, taking in the landscape and trying to judge where an attack could come from, besides right around them when everyone was gathered. The thicket they had just come through was one option, as was the far side of the Hill, which would be out of sight once they were closer to the Manor. The cemetery itself was open and provided an unobstructed view all the way to the grove that surrounded the entire Hill.

"Damn it," he muttered, frustrated with the fact that they were basically in a killing field. Exposed in the open with potential hiding spots for their enemies to pick them off from all sides.

"What is it?" Hermione asked, looking around as well.

Harry made a sweeping gesture to the treeline. "If there's going to be an attack, it could come from anywhere and we'll be helpless to stop it or even see it coming." He ground his teeth and shook his head.

Hermione looked around again, taking in the surrounding trees. "Yeah, that could be a problem."

Harry nodded and pulled up short as they came to the first grave site, where two fresh graves were. What he had not seen was the man standing in front of the two graves, dressed in the black clothing of a mourner, head hung low with long dark brown hair. Even from behind Harry could tell who it was. It was Arnold Peasegood, the man whose family had been killed in the recent Death Eater attack in Diagon Alley. Looking at the gravestones, he could see the names Clara and Ellie engraved on them. Ellie's grave was smaller, indicating that this was the daughter. Harry felt a rush of sympathy course through him as he looked at the grave of the child. She had not even seen her twelfth winter yet. Another stab of sadness went through him when he realized that he had known the girl. She had been a first year Ravenclaw that he had taught. He was at her sorting...his little mimic...

His mind drifted back to the last time he had stood in front of a grave. That had been a child who died before their time as well. Jimmy...

Arnold must have heard their footsteps because he turned and looked at them, his eyes red and puffy from crying. He didn't bother to wipe them, not even seeming to notice. He looked like he hadn't shaved in a few days either; such mundane tasks seemed so trivial in the wake of losing a loved one, let alone two on the same day and in such a horrible manner. "Who are you two?" he asked, his voice low and rough, currently thick with emotion.

Harry looked off toward the second grave site. "Friends of the family," Harry answered vaguely.

Arnold looked toward the other grave as well. "You knew her?"

Harry shook his head. "I only met her once. But I am a friend of Barty's. Er, Barty Jr., that is."

Arnold nodded and looked at Hermione. "And you?"

Hermione shook her head. "I'm just here with by boyfriend, to support him while he supports his friend." As if to emphasize this, she took Harry's hand in her own and laced their fingers together.

Something akin to nostalgia flickered in Arnold's eyes before he looked away, eyes going back to the graves in front of him. "I remember when Clara and I were like that. We met at Hogwarts. She was a Slytherin, while I was a Ravenclaw." He laughed humorlessly. "Lot of good that did her. Those bastards still cut her down like she was one of those muggleborns they hate so much." He shook his head. "There's no sense in it. I don't think there ever was...if there is, it is beyond my ken."

Harry and Hermione remained silent. Harry was thinking that had things not gone the way they did for him, it could well have been him who fired the curse that took this man's wife from him that day. He liked to think that he would not have done it, as far as he knew they had done nothing to earn such a fate, but he could not say what he would have done. He squeezed Hermione's hand, silently thanking her for 'saving' him.

As for Hermione, she was feeling something akin to heartbreak. She could not even begin to understand the amount of pain this man must be going through at the moment. He had lost his wife and their daughter in a single moment and was now trying to do what all those who lost loved one like that do: understand the why behind it all. Most never found that knowledge, and those that did, usually wished they hadn't. Then again, sometimes there was no real reason behind it. In this case, it was simply the wrong place at the wrong time and whatever reasons the ones responsible had for being there; which it seemed was that they were willing to kill anyone just for the chance to be part of some stupid club.

"I am sorry for your loss," Harry said quietly, his eyes on the grave of Ellie Peasegood.

Arnold nodded. "No parent should have to bury their child," he said, voice cracking and fresh tears rolling down his face.

After that, Hermione tugged Harry's hand and led him past the Peasegoods and toward where Elnora would be buried; best to let the man grieve in peace.

There were already a few people gathering there when they arrived at the gravesite for Mrs. Crouch.

Harry pulled his hood up and then tugged it down over his face as they drew nearer to the grave. Lily and James were already there, he found, along with Sirius and Remus. They all looked up when Harry and Hermione approached, James' and Sirius' hands going to their wands before Lily stopped them and whispered harshly to them. Slowly, they relaxed, though James still glared at Harry with absolute loathing.

Harry noticed Remus smile sadly in their direction and nodded to the man who had been his sort of mentor at Hogwarts, though to a greatly lesser extent than Dumbledore. He had liked Remus for the most part, but when he took James' side in their schism, Harry had lost a lot of respect for the man.

They all stood there in awkward, tense silence, no one saying a word and all avoiding eye contact.

Slowly, more and more people began to trickle in in ones and two, occasionally threes.

Harry went rigid when Savage, Robards and Williamson walked up, followed closely by the Lynch brothers and their cousin Graves. Proudfoot was not too far behind them as well.

There was also a man who Harry did not recognize straight away, but Hermione whispered "Rufus Scrimgeour," to him, following his gaze. "Head of the Auror Department. Pride of Gryffindor House too." Harry nodded, noting that the man must have taken that association a little to seriously as he resembled an old lion with a long red mane that hung to his shoulders and framed his severe, proud face.

Nymphadora came running down the hill behind the Head Auror, slowing down when she was a few steps behind him, and taking her place near Sirius, as she was technically part of the Black family, even though Sirius was no longer a recognized member of said family.

Harry saw Scrimgeour speak briefly with James and Lily, shaking James' hand. After a moment, Scrimgeour's sharp eyes cut over to Harry, narrowing slightly, his expression betraying nothing. Harry met the gaze unflinchingly and for a long moment, Harry waited for the veteran Auror to draw on him and attempt an arrest. However, the moment was broken when a rather large group arrived, consisting almost completely of redheads.

Arthur, Molly, Ginny and Ron were in the front, dressed for the occasion; Fred and George followed them, one dressed in black and grey, and the other in grey and black; bringing up the rear were Charlie and Bill, dressed in plain black robes, and Fleur in a simple dark dress. The distance within the family was clear to anyone who looked, but Arthur seemed to hope that them all showing up together would hide that fact.

Almost immediately, Ron spied Hermione and started as if he was going to approach her until he also saw Harry at her side. He looked at them as if he had swallowed something sour and glared at Harry darkly.

"What are _they_ doing here?" Harry heard Ginny ask their father, having followed Ron's gaze across the open hole to where Harry and Hermione were standing.

Arthur looked at them and seemed to pale. "I..I don't know," he admitted quietly. "If the Aurors haven't done anything yet, then I think it's best to not say anything. We don't want a fight here. Not on this of all days." He gave his youngest two a stern, pointed look.

Ginny huffed and looked away while Ron just ground his teeth and glared at them even harder.

"Rufus," a voice called from the direction of the Manor.

Everyone looked to see an elderly woman dressed in black robes and wearing a hat with a stuffed vulture, of all things, atop her head.

"Ah, Augusta," Rufus smiled grimly. "How are you?"

Augusta did not look happy or well. "Have you found anything about my grandson?" she asked. "It's been weeks since he went missing!"

"That's Augusta Longbottom," Hermione told him, not taking her eyes off the exchange. "Neville's grandmother." Harry nodded, making a mental note of the information. "Frank Longbottom was her son, obviously. Seems she's been trying to get the Aurors involved in looking for Neville. I'm assuming that James and Sirius can't tell what they know without revealing their own action in the matter, or lack of, as the case may be. After all, they were right there when you killed him and didn't do anything to stop it."

Harry shrugged. "I have no idea what Kreacher did with his body. The head is still on the mantle though. Might just have to use it to send a message, and put an old lady's mind to rest."

Hermione looked up at him now, eyes clearly showing that she was thinking about what they had spoken of earlier. A moment later she nodded and looked back at the assembled crowd. "Yes. I think that would be best. I'm honestly just sick of seeing the damned thing in the parlour."

Harry smirked but said nothing back to her. A few others arrived, among them was Yaxley, one of the few remaining Death Eaters in the Inner Circle who could move about freely. Luckily, it didn't seem that he had noticed them.

Xenophilius and Luna entered next, along with a blonde woman that Harry recognized as the reporter whose Quick Quotes Quill he had broken in Diagon what seemed like a lifetime ago now.

"That's Rita Skeeter," Hermione informed him. "She runs a byline in the Daily Prophet. More of a gossip column really. She's known for being rather nasty and distasteful with her stories. She's not afraid to attack anyone in writing. She singlehandedly ruined the career of Gilderoy Lockhart a few years ago. Found out he was lying about all of the things he had supposedly done in those books of his; he was presenting them as autobiographical, when the reality was that he was Obliviating other witches and wizards and taking credit for their actions. Making money off of it all. Good riddance to bad rubbish, I say." There was a small pink tint to her cheeks as she said all of this but Harry decided not to ask.

Harry turned his head as he heard footsteps behind him and found Arnold Peasegood approaching. He came to a stop next to Harry and nodded to him in recognition or silent greeting, then turned to look at the hole and the headstone that had already been prepared.

"She was my cousin, by marriage," he said. "Barty, your friend and his father both are my blood kin. It's good to have friends. He'll need those now. It's no secret that Barty and his father are not close, but not many knew that he truly loved his mother." He looked up at the manor. "Here they come now."

Harry followed his gaze up toward the Manor and saw a procession of people. Bartemius was in the front, along with what appeared to be a Druid, while Barty and a few others walked, supporting the wooden casket on their shoulders.

Harry to the moment to study the man he had called brother. Barty was dressed in his best, cleanly shaven and well-groomed, like always, but there was a heaviness to his gait that was not normal for the young man. His eyes held a faraway look in them, like he wasn't really seeing the world around him but was lost in his own thoughts. Given that he was carrying his dead mother to her grave, that was to be expected.

He gently lowered the coffin to the ground along with five other men that Harry did not know, probably cousins of Barty's, and as one they drew their wands and levitated the pine box down into the earth.

After this was done, Barty went to stand next to his father. Then the Druid began to speak. Harry tuned it out and looked directly at his best friend, who had just noticed his presence. He saw Barty frown and meet his gaze. The two stood there, silently staring at each other while the Druid droned on and on about life and death.

Finally, the Druid intoned "As with all things, life too must end. The circle has been completed, but the wheel turns on. May we meet again."

"May we meet again," the crowd murmured.

Harry's gaze was broken by something touching his boot, and he looked down in time to see a large grey rat scurry off between the tombstones. He furrowed his brow and looked back to Barty, who was watching the rat too with wide eyes. He then looked at Harry with an expression of resignation and regret. Then mouthed one word. "Run."

As if to back up Barty's warning, a loud _caw_ broke the silence and Harry followed the cry in time to see a large raven take flight off of a gravestone.

Then, as if on cue, the ground around them exploded.

Screams broke out and everyone began running in different directions, Aurors diving behind headstones, seeking cover. Yaxley, Harry noticed, was lining up a shot at Scrimgeour's back. Not really thinking, Harry drew his own wand and fired a cutting curse at the man, catching him across the chest. He fell to the ground, blood seeping out of his wound, wand falling from his hand.

Harry dragged Hermione behind a gravestone as more curses, some of them the sickly green of the Killing Curse, exploded around them.

The Aurors began trying to figure out where the barrage was coming from, but every time they poked their heads out from their cover, more curses came their way.

"Over there, in the trees!" Arnold Peasegood shouted, pointing just as a hail of green light lanced out from between the trees, forcing them all to take cover again.

With a general target area now identified, the Aurors and Order members began firing back.

"We need to advance," Scrimgeour shouted over the explosions still bombarding them. "Take the fight to them. Use the headstones as cover. Move together."

Bartemius shook his head. "No. Keep your movements erratic. Throw off their fire. If we move as one, they can just pick individual targets and take us all when we move." He radiated righteous rage and his voice shook as he spoke.

Rufus nodded. "You heard the man. All those willing to fight, begin advancing. Everyone else, stay back and stay out of the way!"

Harry looked at Hermione, who had her wand out, and she nodded in return. "Stay close," he said, then turned and sprinted to another headstone. Hermione did the same, choosing a headstone a short distance from Harry's. While they ran, the ground around them erupted with blasting curses and Killing Curses.

Harry dropped into a slide as he reached the headstone, minimizing the target for the attackers. Taking only a moment to peek around, he sprinted to another stone, throwing a curse of his own in the direction of the trees before dropping to cover again.

A scream of pain broke out behind him and he turned to see that one of Barty's cousin had dropped as a blasting curse hit him dead on. The boy was dead.

Harry looked around, taking note of where everyone was at. Hermione was a bit behind and to the left of him. Peasegood just ahead and to the right. Scrimgeour had made good ground and was a few yards ahead of them all, along with Bartemius and Barty, who was sticking close to his father. The rest of the Aurors were fanned out more or less level with Harry. A few of the Weasleys, Bill and Charlie amongst them, were advancing far to the right as well, spreading out of the line a bit to make for harder targets.

Harry moved forward again, moving to the left a bit, forcing Hermione to go further as well.

They repeated the process of moving from cover to cover while throwing curses back until the treeline was only about twenty yards away.

Harry threw several blasting curses into the treeline along with the rest of their group and several trees exploded. The volley was returned with gusto from the Death Eaters and another of Barty's cousins fell as the stone he was hiding behind was struck directly by a _Bombarda Maxima_.

This semblance of trench warfare went on for several minutes. At one point Harry had narrowly avoided a Killing Curse to the face when he peered over the top of his tombstone cover, but had managed to duck back down just in time, breathing heavily from the near miss.

"This is getting us nowhere," James called out to Scrimgeour. "We need to draw them into the open."

"Oh, bloody brilliant idea," Robards snapped, firing a curse at the trees. "And just how the hell do you expect us to do that, mate?"

"Less sarcasm, more ideas, please!" Savage admonished them, diving to a new stone just as the one he was hiding behind exploded.

Harry focused his energy and fired an overpowered _Reductor_ curse directly into the trunk of a particularly large tree that was sheltering a handful of Death Eaters. The curse hit home and the trunk exploded, sending splintered wooden shrapnel in all directions. Harry and the others ducked down as some of the debris flew their way, clattering loudly against the marble and granite stones. At the same time, several cries were heard from the Death Eaters as they were too close to the blast to avoid the deadly shrapnel.

A loud groaning sound was heard followed by cracking and crashing and screams as the tree toppled and fell, taking several more trees with it and crushing more of the Death Eaters.

"Well, that went well," Ray Lynch remarked looking at the damage with wide eyes, barely peeking over the top of his own hiding spot.

"Incoming!" Proudfoot shouted and Harry had just enough time to throw himself sideways as a Reductor impacted his hiding spot.

Harry crawled and scrambled to another stone, this one barely three feet tall, forcing him to lay down with his shoulders and head propped against the stone.

"Guess they didn't take too kindly to your handiwork," Barty laughed from down the line.

"I think that's an understatement," Peasegood muttered from the stone next to Harry, his much bigger.

"We still need to get them into the open," Damian Lynch reminded. "Any ideas?" A curse impacted the stone next to his head, making his flinch down further as the top of the stone practically melted. "Jesus fucking Christ! What was that?"

"That, my Irish friend, would be blasphemy," Williamson commented with a grin.

Damian made a rude gesture and cursed as another curse impacted his hiding place. "Sod off, Scotsman! That damned thing nearly took me fuckin' head off!"

"Wouldn't that be a tragedy?" Graves remarked sarcastically, smiling at his cousin.

"Aye," Ray added in. "The Pond-Hopper has a point! You'd be much prettier without that ugly mug." He cursed as the top of his tombstone broke off and fell onto his head.

"And that, dear brother, is called karma!" Damian laughed, Nymphadora's own laugh was heard from further down.

"Would you dumb-asses mind focusing on the issue at hand?" Proudfoot growled in a very Moody-like way. "In case you didn't notice, we are still pinned down."

Robards shrugged, sitting with his back against a headstone, stuffing a cigarette between his lips and lighting it with his wand. "As a matter of fact, mate, I had noticed that," he muttered, taking a drag and releasing a puff of smoke, revealing his position to the enemy. A spell promptly impacted the top of the stone. He glanced up at it with a roll of his eyes and took another drag, hunkering down a bit more, as if the spellfire were nothing more than a mere nuisance that might go away if he ignored it long enough.

"Proudfoot is right," Savage agreed, firing back at a Death Eater who made the mistake of trying to run from one tree to another and got leveled with a spell to the chest. "Any ideas would be welcomed. Scrimgeour, you have anything in mind?" he asked their boss.

Scrimgeour shook his head. "None whatsoever, Auror Savage."

Another Death Eater fell as Harry fired a cutting curse that struck him in the face.

"What we need is a distraction!" Bill yelled as another volley of curses flew out of the trees at them all.

Charlie grunted agreement with his brother and took down another of the Death Eaters.

"Maybe we could smoke them out!" Hermione contributed, having been looking at Robards smoking his cigarette for a moment, her eyes narrowed. "Muggle military and police do it all the time!"

"You know," Robards said, puffing out a bit more smoke from where he was now practically laying flat. "S'not a bad idea, that." He tossed a curse around his hiding place, firing blind.

"While I admire your planning, Hermione," Remus shouted. "I don't think we have anything that would work for that."

"We'd need a grenade or something," James added in his two cents worth.

"You mean those things that explode?" Sirius asked ducking to avoid a Killing Curse. Harry noticed that the Aurors were barely tiring from the drawn out use of power spells and curses. He suspected that the Runic tattoos had something to do with it.

Hermione looked at Harry her eyes alight with inspiration. "Harry, did you bring that darkness powder you bought from Fred and George the first time we met?"

Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out the black crystals in their little capsules. "Of course." He didn't ask how she remembered that. Hermione had an excellent memory.

Hermione beamed. "Throw them into the trees, I'll cover you."

"I will too," Peasegood said from his other side. "I want a clear shot at those bastards."

Harry nodded. "On three then. One...two...three!"

Hermione and Peasegood stood and began firing curses. Much to Harry's shock and later amusement, Hermione went for broke and unleashed a powerful jet of flames at the trees, setting them and the surrounding foliage ablaze.

Harry threw the capsules into the trees, where they burst and released a thick black cloud of dense darkness.

Confused shouting was heard from behind the treeline and more than a few screams from those who had wandered into Hermione's flames.

"You know, If you had said 'let's burn the trees', that would have been just as effective, I'm sure."

Hermione shot him a smirk but didn't bother commenting on the semantics of his argument.

Peasegood however snorted. "Similar effect, yes. Just as effective? I think not. Look!"

"They're coming out!" someone down the line shouted. Harry guessed that it was Williamson, based on the accent.

Harry peered over the stone and saw that it was true. Black cloaked figures were stumbling out of the darkness caused by the Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder and the smoke screen created by the burning trees and foliage.

"Take them down!" Rufus Scrimgeour commanded and as one the Aurors, and Peasegood, stood and began firing at the Death Eaters. Harry was surprised to note that several of them were using Killing Curses against the enemy. He stood up and joined them.

One by one, the Death Eaters fell under a barrage of curses and soon there was a large mass of dead and injured laying in the short empty space between the headstones and the treeline.

After a long moment when no one else came out from the trees, the Aurors began to slowly stand up from behind their cover. Harry and Hermione shared a look before doing the same.

Charlie, Bill, Fleur and Nymphadora came running over to them. "You two all right?" Charlie asked, looking them over.

"Yeah, we're fine," Hermione answered, breathing heavily and looking a more than a little drained now that the heat of battle was fading.

Proudfoot, Savage and Robards went about executing the wounded and making sure that the dead were really dead. Peasegood joined them, as did Charlie after he was sure his friends and family were okay.

Harry, for his part, was watching Barty, who was looking around as if he couldn't believe that it was over already. That alone was enough to set Harry on edge again. He cast a glance toward all of the dead and noticed that not a single one of them were inner circle members. That rat, and Barty's reaction to it meant that it was what Harry had feared. It had been Pettigrew, and he was not among the dead either.

Just then another loud explosion was heard and screams from behind them all. Turning sharply, Harry saw Crouch Manor burning and the Dark Mark hanging high in the air above it. Worse even then that, there were five masked figures and a single unmasked holding the ones who had remained behind at wandpoint. They shoved a few to the ground and killed them on the spot with Killing Curses. Then looked up at them in the distance as if mocking them and daring them to come and try and stop them.

The scream had been Molly Weasley. She was laying on the ground while Wormtail tortured her.

"Molly!" Arthur yelled and began running back toward his family.

"Arthur!" Remus shouted, chasing after him. "Arthur hold on!"

Arthur was not listening and kept running toward the grave site. Bill cursed and gave chase after his father, Charlie hot on his heels.

"Don't let those men get away!" Bartemius Crouch growled, pointing at the robed figures. "I want at least one of them alive!"

The Aurors all took off at a run, Peasegood, the Obliviator, going with them, his face set in a determined scowl.

"Head Auror Scrimgeour, arrest that man," Bartemius continued, pointing at Harry.

"What?" Hermione gasped. "He just helped you fight those Death Eaters!"

Bartemius sneered. "Be silent, foolish girl."

Scrimgeour was advancing on Harry, wand drawn. Hermione, her own wand still drawn stepped between Harry and the approaching Auror, wand aimed at the older man. "One more step and I'll curse you to oblivion and back!"

Bartemius seemed to have reached the end of his tether. "Auror Scrimgeour, you will arrest that man and this stupid girl this instant. I came here to bury my wife and these...these monsters have made a mockery of this sacred ceremony." He drew his own wand and pointed it at Hermione. "Now, stand aside girl or I'll – Barty what the hell do you think you are doing?"

Barty was standing there with his own wand pressed against the back of his father's neck. "I can't let you do that, father."

Scrimgeour was now looking between Harry and Hermione and the two Crouch men. "Sir?"

"Arre-"

" _Imperio!_ "

Both Barty and Bartemius spoke at the same time, but Barty's curse overpowered whatever Bartemius was about to say and his eyes glazed over.

Barty stepped back wand no longer pointed at his father, instead it was trained on Scrimgeour. "Toss that wand over or I make the old man off himself," he snarled. That was the Barty that Harry knew right there and he felt a surge of warmth flow through him before pushing it aside.

Scrimgeour looked around, looking for backup. There was none. All of the other Aurors were engaged in a literal firefight with the Death Eaters, who were backing away toward the edge of the wards.

Seeing that he was outnumbered, he sighed and tossed his wand to Barty, who caught it easily and threw it on the ground before snapping it under the heel of his boot.

"Good, now back up, slowly, that's good. I didn't say stop!" Barty looked over at Harry, who was watching the whole thing unfold with a carefully blank expression. "Well don't just stand there looking like one o'clock half struck. Get the bloody hell out of here!"

Harry shook his head. "Sorry, Barty, but I can't do that. Not without you, anyway."

Barty frowned and then sneered. "Bugger me," he cursed. "You really wanna do this now? I just buried my goddamn mother!"

Harry didn't waver. "I'm sorry for your loss, Barty. She was a good woman and I know you loved her, but you have something that I need and I can't end this damned war without it, so you're coming with me one way or another."

Barty growled and looked around at the small group. Bartemius was still standing there passively in a trance and Scrimgeour was glaring at all of them. Hermione now had her wand trained on Barty while Harry just stood there, wand sitting in his hand, which was hanging at his side.

"I don't think so, Harry," he said finally. "Not today! _Stupefy_!" The spell was fired at Hermione, who managed to bat it aside at the last second, but Barty was already moving. "Cut your heart out, dad!" he snarled at Bartemius, who lifted his wand and aimed it at his own chest, his lips opening to incant the cutting curse.

Scrimgeour dove at his boss, tackling him to the ground and wrestling his wand away from him.

Barty was now running toward the trees, hoping to lose them in the fading shadow of the Darkness Powder and the thick layer of smoke that hung around the still burning foliage.

Harry was hot on his tail.

"BARTY!" he screamed, giving chase through the trees, hurdling the tree he had felled just moments before during the battle. He could hear Hermione calling his name from behind as he and Barty crossed the treeline but didn't even slow down.

Harry ran as hard as he could, doing his best to keep the significantly faster Barty in sight in the haze of smoke. More than once he had to quickly dodge around a tree that he didn't see until almost the last second.

Despite his best efforts though, he lost sight of Barty soon after entering the trees. He cursed and spurred himself on. He could feel the smoke burning his eyes and his lungs but he pressed on.

The smoke was thinning up a bit now and he could see a clearing ahead of him. No doubt, Barty had reached here and taken the opportunity to apparate away. Unlike the forest around it, the clearing had no smoke clouding it and Harry was now seeking the clean air.

As soon as he crossed the line where the clearing began, he was knocked cleanly off his feet by a strike to the face from a fallen tree branch, which broke on contact with Harry's face. Harry let out a cry of pain as he felt the bone of his nose break and his entire face erupted in pain, then the air was forced from his lungs as he landed hard on his back, his neck and shoulders striking ground first.

His head was spinning and he couldn't see, let alone think through the pain in his face. Slowly, with a shaking hand he reached up and touched his mouth and nose, his vision clearing somewhat before flickering dark and back again. He could feel something wet and sticky there and when he pulled his hand back, shaking tremulously, it was covered in blood.

"Should...well enough alone, mate," Barty's voice came from what sounded like the far end of a tunnel, fluctuating in and out. His vision swam in and out of focus and he could see the older man standing over him. "I didn't...come to this...forced my hand... _You..._ hand...just gone I wouldn't...blow my cover...you alive." He knelt down beside him but Harry was having a hard time focusing. His vision was darkening around the edges and he felt so, so tired. "Now...make much sense to you...listen and listen good." Harry felt a light slap on his cheek and swatted at it sluggishly, trying to focus. "You've got...quit lollygagging...on with it." He looked up sharply and rose to his feet with his wand poised. "Blast it all."

" _Avada Kedavra!_ "

Barty ducked out of Harry's field of vision as he dodged a stream of green light that had just shot out of the trees at him.

A moment later, Hermione's face appeared above him, concern clear on her features, despite the lack of clarity on his part. "Harry! Harry...look at me! Can...hear me? Blink once...can." Harry forced himself to blink only once. "Good good. Oh, Merlin...you're a mess. What did...to you? We need...out of here...Stay with me...stay with me!" Harry's eyelids had started drooping closed and Hermione's voice was getting more and more distant sounding. The last thing he heard before losing consciousness was a sound like mocking laughter that he thought might have been a raven.

 **XXXX**

 **A/N: All right. Another chapter down. I don't know about you, but I am tired after writing this. Action scenes always take it out of me because I'm trying to make it intense and also descriptive. The best action scenes have a fast pace yet set the scene so that you can see it all happening and I don't know how well I do in that regard. I also tried to keep some character and humor in it and convey a sense that some of these guys are used to combat situations and working with each other.**

 **Anyway, THANK YOU to all who read, reviewed, favorited and followed. You guys all rock.**

 **Now, go ahead, if you would be so kind, and leave me a bit of feedback. REVIEW!**

 **Character note:**

 **ARNOLD PEASEGOOD: an Obliviator mentioned in Goblet of Fire before the World Cup. He later became a Hit-Wizard for the DMLE, though no reason for the transfer was ever given. I've given him a reason. He'll play a bigger role in part 2, along with the Task Force. (Actor: Zach McGowan; ex. Charles Vane in Black Sails and King Roan in The 100)**

 **LILY POTTER: actress: Lady Clara Elizabeth Iris Paget (Clara Paget); ex. Anne Bonny in Black Sails.**


	35. The Breaking of Hermione Granger

**WARNING!: This chapter is a bit darker than any before it. I had a hard time writing it and I almost scrapped it, but since this is the direction the story decided to take, I've decided to just ride it out. I'll mark the section where things start to go dark and if you choose to proceed, don't say you weren't told.**

 **XXXV. The Breaking of Hermione Granger**

"Miss Granger, I hardly see how this is of any help," Madam Pomfrey chastised as she looked at the curly haired girl.

Hermione's nostrils flared and she pressed the tip of her wand harder against the Hogwarts Nurse's head. "Less talking and more working."

With a resigned sigh, the kindly healer drew her own wand and began waving it over her patient.

Harry Potter lay unconscious in his bed at Grimmauld Place, his face a mess of cuts, black bruises and broken bones. When he had closed his eyes, despite her effort to keep him awake, Hermione had feared the worst. A quick search for a pulse however revealed that it was there, just weak and very slow. He needed help immediately, but she was not equipped with the skill or knowledge necessary for this sort of thing. Something she promised herself she would remedy in the near future.

Hermione had immediately apparated them back to Grimmauld and levitated him up to the bedroom. She then apparated to Hogsmead, after grabbing that infernal map that Harry had borrowed from Fred and George, and set off through the secret passageway and into Hogwarts.

She had needed to find Madam Pomfrey; Harry needed her help. However, without the Order on her side any more she had to resort to more drastic measures. She had burst into the Hospital Wing, wand drawn and stunned the nurse without a second of hesitation. She then gathered up a couple of every potion she could think of and tossed them into a small beaded bag that she had made bottomless before levitating the Nurse back out of the school the way she had come in. Then, apparated back to Grimmauld with her in tow.

And that, was how she had found herself standing with a rather ruffled but ultimately unharmed healer at wandpoint demanding that she heal Harry for her.

As Madam Pomfrey scanned Harry's body for injuries, she tutted softly and muttered something about young people not showing the proper respect to their elders under her breath. Hermione poked her with the wand to remind her that she was not here to judge manners but rather to do her bloody job.

When Harry had given chase after Barty, she had paused just long enough to see Scrimgeour stop Mr. Crouch from following Barty's order to cut out his own heart and knock the elder man unconscious before she too took off after them, not wanting to be stuck there in case Scrimgeour decided to follow Mr. Crouch's earlier order to arrest her on the spot.

The trees had been thick with smoke and the fading darkness from Harry's Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, which he had obtained from Fred and George, and the two substances combined to create a murky haze through which her eyes could barely see. She had stumbled along, trying to follow the sounds from ahead of her when she had heard a loud cracking noise.

She ran through the trees, holding her breath as much as she could so as not to breath in too much smoke but that had caused her to be a bit slower going than she wanted to be. Finally she had come into sight of the clearing and saw Barty kneeling next to Harry, who was laying spread eagle in the dirt and leaves, blood covering his face and neck.

She hadn't even hesitated when she drew her wand and sprinted forward. Barty had heard her and stood to meet her. She knew that she was no match for the man but she had to get him away from Harry, who may or may not already be dead. So, in the spirit of ending the fight before it even began, she had done something that she had never thought that she would do, and shouted the Killing Curse. Time had slowed as she watched that sickly green light spew forth from her wand and race like a screaming rocket at Barty. Unfortunately, he managed to duck beneath it but he had swiftly retreated, grinning madly at her after his wide-eyed surprise dissipated, his tongue flicking out like a snake's before apparating out of the clearing, leaving Hermione and Harry alone.

His departure still had Hermione confused. After missing her first attack, he had a clear opening to take her down himself. Of course, her use of an Unforgivable had caught him off guard and no doubt shocked him, but he had only paused for a second before he beat a hasty retreat.

Another thing that didn't sit right with her was that he had again left Harry alive, despite having him at his mercy for the second time. From what she had been able to see, he had been saying something to Harry, but what it was she did not know and the learning of that knowledge would have to wait until Harry was awake and able to speak again.

Madam Pomfrey's concerned hum brought her back to the present and she looked from the other witch to Harry. "What?" she asked, worry coloring her tone. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Madam Pomfrey shook her head. "He had several broken facial bones. Broken nasal bone, nasal concha, nasal spine and volmer; shattered supraorbital foraman, supraorbital process and lacrimal; cracked glabella and forehead, with some trauma extending up to the frontal bone; a bit of trauma to the aveolar process. Not to mention extensive contusions across the entire affected area..." Looking back and seeing Hermione's confused expression she repeated in common terms. "He had a thoroughly broken nose, two shattered eye sockets, two fractured cheekbones and a cracked forehead. And a lot of severe bruising." She sighed as she continued to work her wand over Harry's face, the cuts and bruises fading slightly but not going away. "I can't do much for the bruises but the bones..." she paused while she thought of how best to tackle this issue.

"You _can_ fix them, yes?" Hermione prompted, her tone telling that an answer to the negative would not be tolerated nor accepted.

Madam Pomfrey nodded. "Yes, I can, but it will take some time."

Hermione sat herself down in a chair and crossed her legs at the knee, keeping her wand trained on the elderly matron. "I'm not going anywhere."

Madam Pomfrey stared hard at the student that she had helped so many times during her time at Hogwarts; she had even been the one to fix her teeth after one of the girl's first dates had informed her that they were just too big to even be considered cute and said that they made her look like a chipmunk or beaver. Hermione had of course cursed the boy into the next week but his criticism had brought her to tears and she had all but demanded the Nurse fix her teeth, which her parents had refused to do themselves as they were healthy teeth and in order to reduce their size they would have had to file them down by hand and that could have been quite painful.

Finally, the staring match ended with Madam Pomfrey exhaling and turning back to Harry.

Hermione sat in that chair of several hours while Madam Pomfrey worked slowly but precisely to repair the extensive damage that Barty had done to Harry's skull.

"How exactly did this happen, Ms. Granger?" the Nurse asked, taking a small break in her work.

Hermione shook her head. "I don't know. I didn't see it happen. I found him like that."

Madam Pomfrey tutted again. "My best guess would be extreme blunt force trauma. He must have been hit quite hard with a blunt object, something large, judging by the size of the affected area."

Hermione scowled. "I know what 'blunt force trauma' means," she bit out. The Nurse hadn't been condescending or anything, but her nerves were frayed and she was still filled with worry and anger, which caused her to be very agitated, and ignore her manners in favor of a more direct approach.

Another hour passed before Madam Pomfrey announced that she had done all that she could for Harry and that the rest of his healing, such as the bruises, would have to happen naturally. She rummaged through the bag of potions that Hermione had taken and used magic to make Harry swallow several of them, all different colors and consistencies.

"Now, he'll need plenty of rest. I've already given him a Dreamless Sleep potion and one for pain." She held up a red-colored potion. This will help his body heal any damage to the organs, in this case, the brain or eyes, and this," she held up a greenish colored one, "is for the pain. I'll also leave a few more Dreamless Sleep potions," she indicated several phials of deep, almost black purple, like that of star-lit night sky. She then turned and looked at Hermione, who was now standing but still had her wand trained on the older witch. "Now, would you kindly lower your wand and allow me to return to Hogwarts?"

Hermione shook her head. "Not yet. You've seen too much, I can't let you just leave."

Pomfrey sighed exasperatedly. "Ms. Granger, you of all people should know that I am bound by healer-patient confidentiality."

Hermione nodded but did not lower the wand. "I know that. However, such a thing does not prevent someone from taking the information from your mind. I am sorry, Madam Pomfrey, but I have to do this. For Harry..." she pointed the wand at the healer and started moving it in a slow twisting motion by rotating her wrist. " _Obliviate_."

She focused a series of events that would convince the healer that she had stopped by on Order business but since no one was there she would be leaving back to Hogwarts now. While she did this, Madam Pomfrey's eyes glazed over as the spell stripped away the real memories and replaced them with the new, false ones.

Finally lowering her wand, she watched with sad but hardened eyes as the Matron left the room without so much as a word, her face still passively blank. She would not wake from this small trance Hermione had induced until she was outside Grimmauld, and from there the false memory that Hermione added would kick in and she would apparate to Hogsmead thinking that her task was complete, despite not having found what she was looking for at Grimmauld. It was a complex set of spellwork, to weave a memory charm on top of something akin to the Imperius Curse, though not as strong or lasting. The whole thing left Hermione panting from the strain on her magic.

Hermione sighed and let herself fall back into the comfortable chair she had been sitting in only moments before. She could feel the starting of a headache. She tiredly summoned the beaded bag to her and summon a mild pain potion and a Pepperup Potion from its confines. She downed both back-to-back and exhaled gratefully as the effects took over almost instantly. Her headache eased until it was practically gone and she felt a fresh surge of alertness and energy seep into her limbs, her mind getting a small jump-start as well.

She didn't know what had happened at the cemetery after she had chased after Harry and Barty, didn't know if anyone else had been killed on their side or if they had managed to take down the Death Eaters that attacked while they were distracted with the 'cannon fodder' as Harry had described them. Lily had been among those who stayed back during that fight and Hermione desperately hoped that she was okay. Luna too.

She sat up straight. Luna and her father had been there, as had Lily. Some of those down there had been executed by the Death Eaters. Her hands came up to her face as a horrible thought came over her. What if they were dead?

She stood up. She had to find out if they were okay.

She marched to the door and threw it open but paused on the threshold and looked back at Harry laying in the bed in enchanted sleep. She knew that she shouldn't make any moves without him but he was in no condition to do anything at the moment. With the amount of damage that had been done to him by whatever Barty hit him with, they had been lucking that it hadn't been worse. She wondered if that was how Harry had felt when she was recovering from the curse that Dolohov had hit her with at the Ministry. He had been murderous and tortured the man, but Hermione didn't want to torture Barty. No, but she wouldn't say no to a chance to punch him in that smug, grinning face of his. The git.

She shook her head, pushing thoughts of bloodying Barty's nose, literally, aside. She needed to check on their friends.

"I'm sorry, Harry, but seeing as you can't even open your eyes right now...I've got to do this alone," she said, knowing that he couldn't hear her. Then why could she practically hear him telling her that she was being foolish and it was too dangerous to go alone.

She squared her shoulders and closed the door to the room, locking it. She turned to leave but froze. What if he woke up and she was gone? He'd be worried. She knew he would because she had been worried when that exact thing had happened and he was gone. She had raged at him for that one, and here she was about to do the same.

Pondering her conundrum she sighed. She couldn't keep wasting time. Her friends could be in trouble, or dead, for all she knew and here she was dawdling on the stairs trying to decide if she should leave or not. Finally, her mind made up, she marched back into the room and pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill, scribbled a quick note and left it on the bed next to Harry in case he woke up. It was a simple enough note. Just told him that she was going to check on the Lovegoods and see if Lily was with Bill and Fleur at Shell Cottage. It would have to suffice.

That done, she left the room again, locking the door behind her and practically flew down the stairs into the parlour. She grabbed a handful of floo powder and threw it into the fire, shouting "Shell Cottage!" as she stepped into it. She would visit Fleur and Bill first, to see if Lily was with them, then she would apparate to the Rook and check on Luna and Xenophilius.

She stepped out of the fireplace and immediately found herself on the business end of three wands.

She threw up her hands to show she was unarmed as Bill, Fleur and Charlie all drew on her. "Whoa, guys, it's just me!"

Bill and Charlie exchanged glances before Bill spoke, his voice hard and colder than she'd ever heard it. "What were the first words you ever spoke to me?"

Hermione gaped, then blushed at the memory. She had been eleven at the time and visiting the Burrow with the Potters, who had just been assigned as her magical guardians and were going to accompany the Weasleys to Diagon Alley for their school supplies. Hermione already had all of her stuff but she had jumped at the chance to go in the Wizarding World again before Hogwarts. Bill had been visiting and Hermione remembered thinking that he looked far too cool to be a part of the rather unorthodox and wild-seeming Weasleys.

"I asked if you were adopted," she admitted. "I also asked if you were a rock star." Her face was burning red at the admission.

Bill relaxed and lowered his wand while Fleur giggled at the answer Hermione had given. Bill had changed much since then. He no longer wore his hair in a ponytail and kept it to just around his shoulders now rather than to the middle of his back as he had then, and he also no longer wore the fang earring that he had sported then, instead fashioning it into a necklace on a thin strip of leather which hung around his neck even now.

Charlie lowered his own wand and shot a look at his brother. "She really thought you were adopted?" he asked with some mirth.

Bill chuckled self-consciously. "She thought I looked too cool to be part of the family," he smirked and Hermione flushed all over again.

Charlie snorted. "So, what brings you here, Hermione?" he asked, putting the poor girl out of her misery. "Is Harry all right?"

Hermione took a deep breath and nodded. "He's fine, all things considered. He took a nasty hit from Barty. Broke almost all the bones in his face. He's sleeping now. Madam Pomfrey fixed him up good."

"How did you get Madam Pomfrey to help you?" Bill asked. "She would have already known that you two are no longer working with the Order. Then again, she has a good heart and wouldn't hesitate to help if someone was really in need. What did you do, take Harry to Hogwarts?"

Hermione shook her head, flushing again. "I sort of...kidnapped her." At this point, she was afraid her face would be permanently red, if she didn't die of embarrassment first.

Bill, who had sat down at the table and was taking a sip of tea, spit out of the sip he had just taken, having nearly choked on it. "You did _what_?"

Hermione shuffled from foot to foot. "I kidnapped her," she repeated, quailing a bit under the shocked looks she was receiving. "Then I took her to Grimmauld to fix Harry, then I Obliviated her and sent her back to the school."

Charlie looked mildly impressed but Bill ran a hand through his hair with wide eyes. "Blimey, Hermione..."

"So, how is, 'Arry?" Fleur asked, her accent slipping through as she said Harry's name.

Hermione looked relieved at the change of subject. "He's doing a lot better. The bones have all been reconstructed and he's been given some potions to help him heal. He's currently under a strong dose of Dreamless Sleep Potion." She paused and looked around. "Is Lily here?" she asked. "She hasn't come back to Grimmauld and I haven't heard anything from her or the Lovegoods."

Fleur shook her head. " _Non_ ," she said sadly. "We did not see her when we left. After the Death Eaters were beaten we left, since no one we know was hurt."

Hermione felt some relief at the French woman's words. At least none of them had died. "What about Luna and her father?"

Bill shrugged. "They were still there when we left. We didn't want to stick around, in case the Aurors decided to take us in for associating with you. We heard Scrimgeour shouting that you had escaped. We took that as our cue to leave." Fleur nodded along with Bill's words.

Hermione rubbed her eyes. "I guess I'm off to visit the Lovegoods. Maybe they'll have seen something. They were just there as members of the press and wouldn't be bothered by the Aurors. I'm guessing James and Sirius can't say anything about us all or they'd have to explain that they knew where we were the whole time. They'd also have to explain that they knew about Harry killing Neville and never said anything. They've dug themselves in deep and can't say anything without making themselves accomplices and accessories to murder."

She trudged passed them toward the front door. "Thanks anyway, guys. I'll send a letter with Rune when Harry's back on his feet. I'm sure he'll want to talk to everyone."

"Be careful, Hermione," Charlie called out. "And let us know when you find Lily so we know that she's okay."

Hermione waved a hand over her head to let them know she had heard and left through the front door. She marched across the pale, clean white sand, ignoring the beauty of the beach and ocean around her. She had more important things on her mind right now.

With a quick turn and a _pop_ she vanished on the spot with a sensation like being squeezed through a straw.

She reappeared in a small clearing near the rook-like tower house that was the Lovegood residence.

Hermione felt her spirits lift a bit when she saw the blonde haired girl who had been her only true friend before Harry came along skipping merrily outside the front of the house. At least that answered one question that was burning in her breast. Luna was safe and seemingly unharmed, not to mention happy which meant that her father was more than likely unharmed as well.

Hermione left the obscurity of the trees and began making her way across the open expanse of land toward the house. When she felt herself pass through the wards that surrounded the house, Luna froze mid-skip and turned sharply in her direction, her entire being on high alert, hand snapping to where her wand was tucked behind her ear.

She looked over at the approaching figure which looked like her friend, but given the insanity that had been going around lately, one never could be too sure of anything; of that, Luna was absolutely sure.

Hermione noticed the movement and again raised her hands above her head to show that she meant no harm. "Luna," she called out to the younger girl, coming to a halt about twenty paces from the abnormally suspicions blonde.

Luna studied her for a long moment, then smiled brightly, all traces of her earlier unease vanishing as if it had never been there. "Hermione, what are you doing here? I almost didn't recognize you," she greeted.

Hermione frowned. "What do you mean you didn't recognize me?" she asked. "I just saw you not five hours ago. I haven't changed since then."

Luna shook her head. "That's not true at all, Hermione. You've changed a lot."

Hermione gaped, her mouth working silently before she shook her head to clear it. "Er..um, anyway, Luna. Lily isn't here is she?"

Luna looked at the house as if trying to see through the walls to check before she answered. "I don't think so. I think I would have noticed if she was. She has a nice aura." She turned back to Hermione. "Have you checked the Burrow?"

Hermione frowned and looked over toward where the Weasley house could just be seen in the distance. It was of a similar height as that of the Rook but more haphazard in it's design. Mr. Weasley didn't seem to be able to grasp the concept of expanding horizontally rather than vertically and simply added another floor if he wanted or needed to add a new room. Hermione suspected that had it not been for magic, the house would have toppled or collapsed years ago.

"Why would I check the Burrow?" she asked Luna, who was idly watching a passing butterfly.

Luna smiled that dreamy smile that Hermione had long ago learned meant that the younger girl knew something that you didn't and was enjoying that immensely. "Oh, I just thought that Lily might be there. She has the hair for it, though I have to say that hers is a much more appealing shade; more actual red than ginger." She said the last bit like it was some big secret that only she knew. "And Harry's father was rather insistent that she go back there with him. Something about needing to keep her out of the way. I guess that he figures there's always someone home at the Burrow to keep an eye on her, since he has to go and visit the Ministry every day." She walked close to Hermione and leaned in conspiratorially. "They don't even have House Elves at Potter Hall."

Hermione nodded. That she knew. But the thought that was sticking with her was that James had forced Lily to go to the Burrow, against her will most likely. Did that mean that they were keeping her hostage? Was Lily a prisoner? Why? What did they want with her? It wasn't like none of them knew where Harry was. Were they trying to use her to lure Harry out and attempt an arrest? Crouch and Scrimgeour had seemed quite adamant about doing that at the graveyard. Was James going to try and take Harry in? If so, Hermione knew that she had to get Harry out of Grimmauld Place. But she also needed to get Lily out of the Burrow. If she didn't, Harry would not be happy. And Lily was her friend too, almost a second mother – certainly the only mother figure Hermione had left now that her own mother was out of the country and no longer even knew that she existed. No, she couldn't let it wait. She had to get her out of there.

"I need to get her out of there, Luna. Can you and your father help me?" Hermione knew she stood a better chance of succeeding if she had help, but she would go it alone if she had to.

Luna smiled. "Oh, I think we can do that. Right, daddy?" Luna turned and spoke to the man who had just walked up behind them.

Xenophilius smiled at the two girls. "Absolutely, Moonflower." He looked at Hermione. "Your will, my hands."

Hermione had heard him say those words to Harry and felt herself start at hearing them directed toward her now. She wasn't Harry, and she certainly wasn't going to replace him as their chosen leader anytime soon, but she guessed that Xenophilius viewed Hermione somewhat as an extension of Harry himself, due mostly, or in part, to the nature of their relationship.

Hermione forced a smile. "Thank you, Mr. Lovegood."

Xenophilius shook his head. "Please, Hermione, call me 'Xeno'. I do believe we were past that long ago."

Hermione nodded. "Right, sorry. So, Xenophilius, Luna. I'm going to head over to the Burrow now. I want you two to collect Bill and Charlie from Shell Cottage and join me. I'm gonna go and see what the situation is like. Once everyone is gathered, we'll come up with a plan based on how the situation is looking."

Xenophilius nodded. "All right. Moonflower, would you mind going with Hermione? I can get the others alone. Best to have someone to watch your back when going into an unknown situation." He said the last part to Hermione in a very serious tone.

Hermione couldn't fault his logic. "Right. Luna, come along. Mr. Lovegood, Xeno, do hurry."

Xeno inclined his head in a small semblance of a bow. "I shall be as the wind." With that, he turned and went back into the Rook, no doubt to use the floo. This was confirmed when Hermione caught a brief flash of green through the open window.

Luna waved her wand at the house and the front door and the window of the kitchen closed as the same time with nary a sound. "Let's go then," she announced chipperly before skipping off in the direction of the Burrow.

Hermione cast a final look in the direction of the Rook before following the younger witch toward their closest magical neighbor. Hopefully Xeno and the others wouldn't take too long before joining them. She didn't know where Tonks was either, but she wished that she had a way to get in contact with the young Auror. They could use all the wands they could get, just in case.

They crested the hill that separated the Burrow and the Rook and Hermione took a moment to look down over the property. She couldn't see anyone moving about at this distance, but there didn't look to be anyone in the yard or in the garden. Remembering that the Weasley family had brooms too, she made sure to scan the skies above the area, just in case anyone had decided to go for a fly. If they had, there was a strong chance that she and Luna might already have been seen. However, her scan of the clear sky revealed nothing. Unless they were disillusioned, there was no one up there.

Hermione remembered that the wards followed the old wooden fence that surrounded the property and so she stopped just before reached them and tried to see if there was anyone in the house. She cursed and dug out her beaded bag, rifling through it until she found her Omnioculars. She was glad that she had not taken them out of the bag after stuffing them in there when Harry returned them after using them to plan his infiltration of Malfoy Manor to get the Horcrux.

She looked through the magical device and focused in on the windows of the house, trying to see through but the sun glinting off the glass was making this decidedly more difficult than she was happy with.

Cursing, she lowered the Omnioculars and wracked her brain, trying to come up with another idea. She needed to somehow get a view inside the house. Not for the first time, she wished Harry was here; he'd know what to do. Hermione wasn't stupid, not even close, but Harry had a knack for these sorts of situations.

She looked through the Omnioculars again, scanning the front of the house again. There had to be something she could do to get a view inside.

There!

A window was open, most likely to allow for the coming and going of the post. Maybe she could set the Omnioculars to record and levitate them through the window, she thought. It would be difficult to control the levitation from that distance but it was safer than just running in blind.

Luna was sitting in the grass nearby, humming to herself while playing with a small blue butterfly. She was content to just sit and let Hermione do the clever stuff for a change. However, the little colorful insect fluttered off and over the fence toward the garden.

Hermione watched it go with narrowed eyes. Could that work? She wondered. Hermione looked at Luna, then back at the butterfly, then back to Luna, then back again. Finally, she focused back on her friend. It just might work.

"Luna," Hermione said, making the girl look up at her, "You are a genius," she asserted, grabbing the younger girl's face and kissing her on the forehead, then looking her square in the eyes. "A mad, wonderful genius."

Luna looked at her queerly, tilting her head like she thought Hermione may have finally gone round the bend. "You have pretty eyes" she said.

Hermione though was no longer listening and instead had her wand out. " _Avis_!" A swallow erupted from the tip of her wand and began to fly around her, chirping merrily. Hermione used her wand to pull the bird down and quickly rigged the Omnioculars to it, making sure that whether it was flying or perched, the view on the device would face forward.

That done, she pressed the record lever on the device, then peered through as best as she could with it attached to a wriggling bird to see if it was indeed recording. She saw the little rune at the top letting her know that yes it was. Good.

She released the bird and using her wand she directed it into the house through the open window. She made it circle the kitchen and dining room, then into the parlour before doubling it back and out the window again.

The swallow landed back beside her and Hermione quickly removed the device from the bird, ending the recording as she did.

She lifted the device to her eyes and set it to replay what it had just recorded for her at half speed.

She saw the kitchen, which was empty, save for Ginny, sitting at the table snacking while struggling through what looked to be summer homework for Hogwarts. Hermione had forgotten that Ginny and Luna would both be going back for their final year at Hogwarts soon.

Into the parlour the image went and Hermione gave a start, then a smile as she saw Lily sitting there with a rather sour expression on her face. Remus was with her, sitting opposite her, saying something that Hermione couldn't quite catch. None of them seemed to take too much note of the bird that had just circled around them, though she did see Remus and Lily glance up at it as flew over them to make it's exit.

Hermione lowered the Omnioculars and stood up just as several _pop_ s sounded nearby. She drew her wand and trained it on the form of Xenophilius. "What did I ask you about when Harry and I visited you the first time?" She felt a bit stupid doing this, but she could see the logic behind it.

Xeno smiled and pulled out his Deathly Hallows pendant. "You asked me what this was."

Hermione nodded and lowered her wand. "What kept you?"

It was Bill who answered as he stepped around the blonde man to peer at the Burrow. "Had to convince Fleur to stay behind in case anyone dropped by. We still haven't heard anything from Tonks."

Hermione nodded. "Good thinking."

"So, what's the situation looking like?" Charlie asked, joining his brother at the fence-line.

Hermione held up the Omnioculars. "Lily's insides, with Remus. Ginny was in the kitchen too. I don't know if anyone else is in there. I didn't want to risk a second pass." She passed them the Omnioculars and let them view the recording as well. Xeno watched as well and frowned.

"Are they holding her prisoner?" Xeno asked.

Bill shook his head. "I doubt it is anything so harsh. More likely just not letting her leave."

Charlie snorted. "So, keeping her prisoner then."

Bill sighed and shrugged. "Essentially." He looked at Hermione. "So, how are we doing this?"

Hermione fought the urge to fidget as everyone, even Luna, turned their attention on her, waiting expectantly for her to tell them the plan. Was this how Harry felt all the time? How did he handle it? Hm, she thought, how would Harry go about this. Think like Harry, she told herself silently. An image of herself walking into the Burrow and just killing everyone entered her head and she shuddered. Okay, she amended, don't think like Harry.

"I'm gonna go in," Hermione finally said. "I wanna get a feel for the situation, see if I can get her out without things breaking out into a fight." Hermione actually didn't have her hopes too high in that regard, if the glare that Ginny had given her at the Graveyard was anything to go off of.

Bill shook his head. "You can't go in there alone."

Hermione smiled. "I'm not going alone. You all are coming with me. Disillusioned."

Bill didn't look like he liked this plan, but Charlie was nodding. "Could work," the bearded Weasley nodded. "This way we'll be right there if a fight breaks out."

Hermione inclined her head. "Exactly. I'll go inside, but I want you all waiting just outside, just in case. If things go south, you all come in and we'll get Lily and leave."

"Why not just go in wands blazing?" Bill asked. "Would be simpler."

Hermione sighed. "It would be, but I'd rather not have to hurt anyone unless we have to."

"Harry wouldn't hesitate to kill them all," Luna commented from her seat in the grass.

Hermione nodded. "I know. But, Harry isn't here right now. Until he gets back on his feet, I'll be calling the shots," she said with more confidence than she felt. She didn't know where that line had come from but given that she had just been taking charge all day, she didn't question it. It just felt right to do so. "Anyone have a problem with that?"

Bill and Charlie exchanged a glance, then shook their heads. "Just don't ask us to kill any of our own family and we'll be fine," Bill said.

Hermione wanted to point out that Bill had been the one to curse his own mother but refrained. "Right, let's go."

Charlie, Bill and Xeno all tapped themselves on the head with their wands, Bill shivering slightly as the feeling like someone had just cracked an egg on your head seeped down his body and soon all three were standing practically invisible. The only sign that anyone was there was an impression in the grass where their feet were planted. A moment later, Luna vanished too, seemingly after one of the others cast the spell on her. Hermione told herself that she could see a slight distortion in the air above Luna's head just before the girl vanished.

Hermione nodded in their general direction and after taking a deep, steadying breath she crossed the boundary line and through wards, ducking and climbing between the boards of the fence.

She strode across the lawn of the Burrow, her fingers touching the end of her wand, which was stowed up her sleeve, within easy reach should she need it.

Hermione reached the door that led directly into the kitchen-dining room area and raised her hand to knock but paused when she realized that Ginny was no longer sitting at the table. Her eyes darted around, looking for the girl but she was nowhere to be seen. The books on the table were all closed and the food gone completely.

Steeling herself, she knocked on the door. No need to deviate from the plan just yet. Perhaps she just stepped out for a moment. To the loo perhaps.

However, the person that entered the kitchen was not Ginny. It was Ron.

Hermione felt herself tense up. This would not go over well. Ron had been rather... _upset_ when Hermione suggested that they bring Harry in to help them fight Voldemort. Before that, he had been showing obvious signs of jealousy at the time Hermione spent with Harry. She knew that Ron fancied her; she was the smartest witch of her generation, of course she knew. She would have had to have been blind not to see it. The problem was, he was just too immature for her. He had no drive, no ambition, no sense of work ethic. He would rather sit and play chess or exploding snap, or talk about Quidditch than do his homework. He would always say he was going to go and do those things when Hermione would try to get him to do homework with her. She had tried to be his friend, really, but it just wasn't there. And Hermione was never one to lower herself to another's level just so they could feel better about themselves. Not to mention all of the arguments that ensued from her refusal to let him copy her homework, or her refusal to go to Quidditch matches. She went on occasion, but that was mostly because Jimmy played too. _Had_ played...

Not to mention that his temper was on a short fuse and Hermione always worried that one day he would turn violent, she had seen flickers of it in their arguments but so far he had not gone that far, but there was a first time for everything, as they say.

She shook herself out of her thoughts and weakly waved at the redheaded boy. His eyes narrowed suspiciously at her but he made his way over to the door all the same.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, looking around as if expecting Harry or someone to jump out and attack him. Not a misguided expectation, she conceded.

Hermione bit her lip, projecting uncertainty. "Um, do you think I could come in? I...I need a place to stay." She didn't know what she was doing, but decided to just wing it.

Ron didn't look convinced. "How do I know you are really you?"

Hermione huffed. What was it with all of the suspicion all of a sudden? Did something happen that she didn't know about?

Hermione gave him an impatient glare. "When I first met you, you made fun of my hair. Said it looked like someone stuck a dirty mop on my head."

Ron flushed guiltily at the reminder of his past transgressions. He hadn't been quite so taken with her when they first met, but that had changed over time as she filled out and she found ways to tame her hair.

He cleared his throat noisily. "Right. Almost forgot about that."

Hermione held her tongue. She certainly hadn't forgotten. She still wished she could go back and hex is hide for that one. She had cried for a solid hour after that one. Of course, then she met Bill and he cheered her up with stories about his job as a Curse-Breaker. After assuring her that he was not adopted, of course.

Ron stepped aside and let her walk into the house, closing the door after taking another paranoid glance around the outside.

"So, what happened?" Ron asked, turning to face her. Hermione frowned. "You said you needed a place to stay."

Hermione nodded. "Yeah. After what happened at the graveyard...Harry and I had a bit of a...disagreement." What she didn't say was that that disagreement had been a one-sided argument where Hermione debated in her own head while thinking that Harry would not like her idea. She had play it up though, make it sound worse than it was. "I..I couldn't take it anymore. We can't even leave the house without someone trying to kill us. Do you have any idea how annoying it is to have to stay in the house all day because your boyfriend is one of the most wanted wizards in Britain?"

Ron looked at her for a moment with something akin to hope in his eyes. "So you left Harry?" he asked, almost looking like he could not believe that. Hermione also caught a bit of dark glee in his eyes, but it was gone before she was even sure that it was real.

Hermione felt extremely dirty as she nodded, letting her lip tremble and her eyes mist up a bit. She refused to look Ron in the eye, lest he see the lie there.

Ron was trying his best not to grin as he came over to her and put his hands on her shoulders, then began rubbing them up and down her arms. "That's brilliant, Hermione. I always knew you would come to your senses and come back to us."

Hermione forced a smile, her stomach twisting; she felt sick.

Then, Ron did something that caught her completely off guard. He kissed her, full on the mouth.

 **X**

Hermione's eyes widened as Ron practically devoured her lips, his tongue plunging into her mouth when she gasped at the sudden move. Her entire body froze and her mind was screaming at her to get away. Finally, her hands started working again and she started pushing against his chest, trying to get him away from her. Unfortunately, he was much stronger than her and would not let her go. He pushed her back until her rear hit the kitchen table and she felt Ron push her down, trying to lay her down on the tabletop.

Hermione's mind suddenly snapped into extreme clarity and she lashed out in the first way that came to her mind. She shoved him hard, her emotions high and her magic responded accordingly, sending Ron flying across the room to land heavily against the wall.

Hermione was breathing heavily and she felt like her entire body was dirty. She desperately rubbed her hands and arms as if to scrub off some unseen filth. Ron was back on his feet now and glaring darkly at her. Hermione tried to back up a few steps but found herself against the table again. Where were the others?

Before she could look for them though, or call for help, Ron was on her again, holding her down, his bigger, stronger hands gripping her wrists now, and his body pressed heavily against hers, holding her in place as he leaned his head in close to hers. "That wasn't very nice, Hermione!" he bit out, his mouth right against her jaw. Hermione turned her head away from him as his hot breath washed over her face and neck. "You know, I never understood what you saw in Potter, and I still don't, but I'm done sitting around waiting for you to come round. I was there first, Hermione, I deserved at least a chance." He kissed her neck, making her squirm and a rather unpleasant chill shook down her spine. "We could have worked." He trailed more kisses down her skin and Hermione struggled against him, trying to fight free of his grip, but it was too strong. Quidditch had made him stronger.

Tears slipped out of her eyes and she wanted to scream. She did scream. But no help was coming. She had to get herself out. There was nothing else for it.

Her opening came when Ron tried to kiss her on the mouth again. She let him. Let him insert him tongue, then bit down hard.

Ron recoiled instantly, his hands releasing hers and he took a step back, blood running down his chin. Hermione knew she had blood on hers as well, she could feel it.

Not wasting a second, Hermione struck out again, her fist hitting him hard in the nose and his eyes started watering up. More blood spilled from his nose. Hermione drew her wand and blasted him in the knee with a cutting curse and he dropped to the ground with a cry of pain.

Hermione was on him in a flash, her hand striking at his face. She didn't even realize until later that there was screaming, and that it was coming from her. Tears blurred her vision and she hit him again and again. Finally, Ron seemed to get some semblance of control back and deftly raised him arm to cover his face, then promptly back-handed her.

Hermione yelped in pain as his hand struck her face and she fell to the side. Ron rolled over and climbed on top of her, his hands going around her neck. Hermione clawed at his hands, leaving deep gashes, but Ron held on and Hermione soon felt herself losing consciousness.

Her hands went to his own neck like she was going to try and choke him back, but that would have been a futile effort. Instead, she felt her way up his face, her vision darkening. She felt his nose, and then his cheeks, moved her fingers up until she was sure she was at his eyes, then viciously drove her thumbs into them, her nails piercing the soft round organs.

Ron screamed and released her throat, allowing Hermione to breathe again. She coughed violently and turned her head from side to side as she looked around for her wand. It was laying several feet away, out of reach. But Ron's wasn't, she remembered. He had not drawn his yet. He always kept it in his front pocket. She reached and found it easily, pressed it against his ribs and fired a blasting hex into him, sending him flying off of her once more.

She rolled toward the spot she had seen her own wand and grabbed it, scrambling to her feet she trained both wands on Ron, who was laying in the floor, curled into a ball, both hands covering his wounded eyes.

Hermione felt her rage and fear and so many other emotions boiling up inside her and she ground her teeth. The bastard had tried to rape her, then tried to kill her! She growled at stomped over to him, kicked him as hard as she could in the ribs, forcing him onto his back. She then put him in a body bind.

"You son of a bitch!" she spat, literally. "You stupid, savage, piece of shit, son of a bitch!" Hermione was beyond angry. She was beyond even enraged. She was livid, she was infuriated. She was murderous. She leveled her wand at his groin and fired a cutting curse into it. She saw the pain contort his face, but he could not cry out; his voice had deserted him. However, Hermione was not satisfied and did it again, and again, and again. Finally, that area of Ron was little more than a mess of blood and gore and shredded flesh. Hermione leveled her wand at Ron's face, her own completely void of anything except hate. " _Avada Kedavra_."

The jet of green light shot out of her wand for the second time that day, but this time, it struck home and Ron fell still at her feet, the light leaving his eyes. Hermione felt a cold sort of calm envelope her and she knelt down and used magic to carve one word into his forehead.

 _RAPIST_

Satisfied with her work, she gave his corpse another kick before snapping his wand and dropping it next to his body. She then turned away and made her way into the parlour, where she had seen Lily before.

 **X**

Lily was indeed still in there, but so was Remus. The werewolf had his wand pointed at the door and Hermione had to quickly erect a shield as he fired a stunner at her.

He froze, seeing the blood on her face and shirt. "Hermione?" he asked looking perplexed to see her. "What are you doing here?" Ginny was in the room too. She looked horrified as she realize who the blood had to belong to.

Hermione just glared at him. "That bastard just tried to rape me. And you all just let him do it. You just stood by and did nothing." Her voice was calm and empty. She was too tired to feel anything right now. All that was keeping her going was her rage. "I screamed. I pleaded. Yet no one came."

Lily had tears running down her cheeks as she looked at the broken shell of the girl she had helped raise for seven years. She wanted to run to her, but the spell Remus had cast on her prevented it.

Remus' eyes darted to the kitchen behind Hermione. "Ron?"

Hermione laughed, but there was no humor in it. "He's dead. I killed him. Weren't you listening? He tried to rape me."

Ginny however was not quite as shocked as the others. "Liar!" she shouted. "Ron wouldn't do that. You probably lured him in like the whore you are and then killed him when his guard was down. I don't know why he ever felt anything for you. You're just like that monster you call your boyfriend!"

Hermione's eyes narrowed and she glared at Ginny, eyes blazing. If looks could kill, Ginny would have been ripped to shreds then and there, then burned.

"Ginny, be quiet," Remus ordered the girl.

"No!" Ginny refused. "You aren't seriously going to believe her are you? She's the _enemy_!"

Remus opened his mouth to say something but Hermione beat him to it and a cutting curse sped across the room, catching Ginny square in the throat, severing her jugular and her windpipe.

Ginny's eyes widened as she suddenly couldn't breath. She tried to speak but all that came out was a gurgle and a spurt of blood. She then collapsed onto the floor in a trembling heap as her body fought to stay alive. It was a futile effort though. Remus dropped to his knees beside the girl and tried to stem the flow of blood, but Ginny was already drowning, her lungs filling with blood.

Hermione waved her wand at Lily, releasing her from the spell that held her down and the older woman sprung up from the chair and ran to Hermione, tears still in her eyes. "Oh, Hermione, are you okay? Did he...?" her voice trailed off as she looked Hermione up and down as if searching for signs that Ron had actually had his way with her.

Hermione shook her head mutely. Then she gasped as Lily grabbed her hand pulled her out of the room. They skirted around the still-warm body of Ron, Lily looking a like she might retch at the sight of what Hermione had done to him in retaliation.

Hermione looked on emotionlessly. The door to the house opened and a rather roughed up looking Bill stumbled inside. "Hermione, we have to-" he fell silent, seeing the state of her and the corpse at her feet. His mouth opened and closed soundlessly. "What did you do?"

Hermione met his gaze blankly. There was nothing of the girl they all knew and loved in those eyes now. "He tried to rape me," was all she said.

Bill looked disbelieving for a moment, but Charlie came up behind him and pulled him out of the house after a cursory glance around the room. Charlie looked just as cold and empty as Hermione did. It was the same way he had been when he was torturing Dolohov. "We don't have time for this. We have to go."

"What happened?" Hermione asked, seeing how disheveled they were; a small bit of her former spark reappeared in her eyes as concern for her friends rose up past all numbness. They had just stepped out of the house, Lily pulling Hermione along by her hand.

"It was a trap," Bill said, sounding a bit distant. "They were disillusioned too. Watching us the whole time. Luna was the first to see them. Gave us just a moment of heads-up before everything went crazy."

"Where's Harry?" Lily asked, looking around for her son.

"He back at the house," Hermione told her, another small hint of her old self blinking through as she thought about Harry. Would he be proud of what she had done? Angry? Disgusted? She knew that he liked that she wasn't like him...but now she was. She was a monster too, now. "He got hurt at the graveyard. We need to get back to him."

Lily nodded. "I'll go with you," she said.

Hermione shook her head. "No. Go to Godric's Hollow. We'll meet you there." With that, Hermione marched to the wards and stepped outside them, apparating away, leaving the others to make their own escape. She didn't feel too worried about them now. Lily had been hot on her trail as she left and Bill and Charlie had made a dash for the fence. Before leaving, she had caught a glimpse of Luna and Xenophilius fleeing through the field toward their own home. She didn't see who they had all been fighting, but she suspected that it was the remaining Order members. Who else would it be?

She hurried inside Grimmauld Place and practically sprinted up the stairs to hers and Harry's room. She burst inside, almost expecting to be attacked in her sudden appearance, but Harry was still laying just as she had left him. She threw as many of their belongings as she could into her beaded bag. All of Harry's books, still stored in his trunk, all of their clothes, Harry's wand.

"Dobby! Kreacher!" she called out, throwing the covers back off of Harry.

With two _pop_ s the Elves were standing before her, bowing.

"What can Kreacher be doing for you, Mistress?"

"Mister Harry Potter Sir's Grangy is calling Dobby?"

"I need one of you to take Harry to Godric's Hollow. You know where," she ordered, not thinking about that fact that she was normally uncomfortable with ordering the little Elves around. "The other needs to gather up all of the food and potions in the house and take them as well as two beds. We probably won't be coming back here for a while."

Both Elves bowed again and Kreacher vanished with Harry and the bed he was laying in. Dobby vanished as well, presumably to gather the food and such.

Hermione looked around to make sure she wasn't missing anything, then flew back down the stairs. She paused in the parlour and looked at the two severed heads on the mantle. She couldn't let the Aurors or anyone else find those. She conjured a draw-string leather bag and stuffed both heads inside, then stuffed that bag inside her beaded bag.

That done, she ran back outside and apparated to Godric's Hollow. She appeared in the middle of the street and looked around for Lily, who was running out from the cemetery, waving at Hermione. Hermione waved her over and led the older woman to the remains of the Potter house.

Lily drew up short as she saw where Hermione was leading her. "Why are we here?"

Hermione grabbed her hand and tugged her along. "Harry used this as a safe house before coming to meet the Order. We're going to do the same now. Harry's already here." Hermione knelt and cleared the trapdoor of debris and hauled it open. "Get inside," she said to Lily, with a jerk of her head.

Lily hesitated for only a moment, then climbed down into the dark basement. Hermione did a quick sweep of the area, double-checked the wards, then dropped down inside herself, pulling the trapdoor closed behind her.

She had expected to be enclosed in total darkness but was surprised to find that lamps and candles were burning around the wide, open room, which looked to be a lot bigger than she remembered it being the last time she was here. The bed that Harry occupied was off in a corner with a set of privacy screens separating it from the rest of the room. In the opposite corner was similar set up but the bed was smaller, meant for one person. Hermione guessed that this was Lily's bed.

Kreacher appeared in front of her. "Mistress, Kreacher is having expanded the room."

Hermione nodded. "I can see that. Thank you, Kreacher. That will be all."

Lily was looking at the desk that was still left in the room from the last time Harry had been here. His book on Goblin Wars was still sitting on the surface where he had left it. "I didn't know any of the house had survived," she said, looking up at the ceiling.

Hermione shrugged, moving toward Harry. She needed to be close to him, to feel that comfort she always felt when near him. "I'm gonna get some rest. I suggest you do the same. No one can get inside now. I warded the door. The wards outside make sure no one can even see this place and no one will accidentally venture in as it has a notice-me-not on it. We'll be safe. Harry made sure of that when he was here last." With that, she closed the curtains around the bed area and cast a series of privacy charms on it. She then stripped down, feeling very dirty. She memory of Ron's hands and mouth on her made her want to vomit. She cleaned herself up as best as she could with magic for the time being. Perhaps tomorrow she would have Kreacher add on a bathroom so she could properly bathe.

For now, she crawled into the bed and wrapped her arms around Harry, curling her body into his, trying to soak in the warmth from him, and for the first time in a long while, Hermione Granger let herself break down completely and cry herself to sleep.

 **XXXX**

 **...I think this was the hardest chapter I have ever had to write...please review...**


	36. Eyes on the Horizon

**XXXVI. Eyes on the Horizon**

"Hermione, dear, you need to talk about it."

Hermione looked at Lily and shook her head. "No."

The two women were sitting in the basement of what used to be the Potter cottage in Godric's Hollow. Hermione was perched on the edge of the bed that she shared with Harry fiddling idly with a loose thread on the blanket, her eyes faraway. As for Harry himself, he was still unconscious. He had come to briefly a couple of hours ago but Hermione had gently coaxed another phial of Dreamless Sleep down his throat after getting him to take the pain and healing potions that Madam Pomfrey had left for him, sending him back into the arms of Morpheus once more.

She desperately wanted him to be awake right now; she needed his steadfast resolve and his unwavering love for her right now. Alas, she knew that he still had healing to do. She would just have to cope with this herself until he was back to full strength.

The bruises on his face were now a blotchy purple with some yellow interspersed throughout. He looked a right mess, but Hermione barely saw any of that.

Hermione had hoped that she would feel better after a good cry and a good night of sleep. She got half of that; sleep had been difficult in coming and then it was constantly interrupted by dreams of Ron pressing her down against the table and doing unimaginable things to her. Hermione cursed her own weakness. She wasn't some pathetic victim. No, she had not just laid there and taken it. She had fought, and then killed her tormentor. She had gotten her justice, her vengeance. Ron was dead, and she had been the one to kill him. Did she regret it? No. Did she feel guilty? No. Then why was she so affected?

She almost laughed at the stupidity of her own question. She knew why she was so bothered. It wasn't because she had killed, or who it was that she had killed. No, she had accepted that she would have to kill at some point and by no means were either of the Weasleys her first kill. She had taken down more than one Death Eater in that fray at the graveyard. She had cut them down with fire and with curses as they fled out of the trees from hers and Harry's efforts.

No, it was what the whole thing represented. The end of innocence. Her eyes had been opened to the harsh realities of this war. At the graveyard, it had been nameless, faceless grunts who she cut down. She had taken a kill shot at Barty, but he was the enemy. And she had missed that shot anyway. No, this was different in that she had known both of her victims for seven years and had even called them friend at some point. But they had turned on her, treated her like trash. Tried to take her pride from her. She couldn't pretend that she was morally superior anymore. She couldn't claim the righteous high ground anymore.

She had forgotten the most dire warning that Nietzsche had taught her in his books. When fighting monsters, one should take great care that they do not become a monster too; for when one stares long into the abyss, the abyss stares back.

Hermione had not quite become that which she fought, but she had flirted with the darkness even before Harry came along. She had been insatiable in her curiosity and thirst for new knowledge and had delved into the darkest parts of magic without any real regard for how dangerous they were. Then Harry came along and she found herself seduced by this dark stranger who soon became her best friend and then her lover. She should have known that staying with Harry after she discovered the truth would eventually lead to something like this.

But Harry had not been there when it happened. The irony of that was not lost on her.

She didn't blame Harry for this though. It was her own fault and she would not go laying the blame at the feet of those who had done nothing but given her the freedom to make her own choice.

Nor did she regret staying with him. She had made her choice because she loved him and that meant that she would stand by him despite the opposition of all of her friends and family. Perhaps that was foolish, naïve thing to do but there was no going back now. She couldn't, even if she had wanted to.

"You can't keep it bottled up inside, Hermione," Lily pressed. "What happened yesterday was horrible, and if you don't let all of that out it will eat you up inside."

Hermione sighed heavily. "Listen, Lily...I know you just want to help, but right now all I want is for Harry to get better so we can plan our next move. I'm not some delicate little doll that's going to break at the first bit of trouble. I can work through this myself."

Lily's eyes grew sad, seeing the girl she had viewed as practically her own daughter for seven years so withdrawn and cold; though, given that said girl was sleeping with her son – her real son – she should amend that relationship a bit; daughter-in-law sounded good to her.

"It's okay to feel regret," Lily told her. "You did something that can never be taken back. I don't think any less of you," she quickly added when Hermione raised her eyes to her, "I just know how it feels to bottle that guilt up."

Hermione shook her head. "I'm not feeling guilty," she corrected the older woman. "I don't regret what I did. It was bound to happen sooner or later. They deserved it. Ron deserved it. Ginny deserved it. I'll never feel guilty for what I did to them. More than anything I think I'm just...sad."

Lily pounced on the small opening presented to her. "What are you sad about?"

Hermione shrugged, turning her attention back to the bit of blanket that she had pulled into her lap. "Just that it ever came to this, I guess. I can't take the moral high ground anymore." She almost giggled. "I've lost a large piece of my arsenal when it comes to arguing with Harry." She looked over at the sleeping man fondly. Her voice was quiet when she spoke next, "What will Harry think of me?"

Lily smiled sympathetically. "Harry loves you," she said with conviction. "That isn't going to change now. You did what you thought was right."

Hermione nodded. "I did what I had to do...I did what I had to do."

There was a tapping noise from the trapdoor and Hermione and Lily both tensed, looking up with their wands drawn.

Hermione leaped nimbly from the bed and walked slowly over to the ladder as the tapping sound continued in triplets separated by a pause that lasted little more than a beat. Was this some sort of code? She glanced back at Harry wishing that he was awake now to tell them whether or not this was a threat or a friendly sound.

Finally, deciding it was best to get it over with, Hermione flicked her wand, opening the trapdoor. She was tensed and prepared to start throwing spells at the first sign of danger but she relaxed when she heard a familiar caw and Rune flew in, something rather large clutched in his talons.

"Crookshanks!" Hermione gasped, running forward to pick up her familiar who was glaring mutinously at the large raven, who was flying back out of the trapdoor. Hermione scooped up the large feline and cradled him close to her breast, feeling him purr loudly at the affection, though he still looked quite grumpy. "Oh, I'm so sorry I forgot about you! I didn't see you and I didn't think to look for you or Rune. I'm so sorry!" Crookshanks just looked up at her with a looked that said he'd forgive her...this time.

Rune cawed loudly and flew back inside with yet more items clutched in his claws and one in his beak.

He landed on the desk and deposited his load, then glided to the bed where Harry was laying and began hopping around him and cawing as if he were trying to wake the boy up. When Harry did even stir, the bird pecked him lightly on the hand. Still no response. The raven's head darted back and forth, then looked at Hermione, giving a cry that Hermione swore said 'what did you do to him?'

Hermione scowled at the bird, then flicked her wand again, closing the trapdoor. She walked over to the desk to look at the letters and newspaper that had been left there, while Rune hopped over to the nightstand and peered curiously at the potion bottles there. He trilled softly, tapping his beak against the bottle of Dreamless Sleep Potion.

Hermione just ignored him and opened the first letter. It was from Bill, letting her know that he and Charlie were safe and were warding Shell Cottage so that none of the Order could find it. The second letter was from Luna, telling her that she and her dad were doing the same to their house.

Hermione sighed. Well, at least she knew that they were all safe. She wondered about Nymphadora, but thought it best not to try and contact the young Auror, just in case she was being watched.

She picked up the Daily Prophet and went to sit back on the bed. Lily watched her the whole way, her eyes filled with worry. Crookshanks had curled up on Harry's chest while Rune had taken up residence on the dark wooden headboard of the bed.

Hermione took up her previous spot and pulled her legs up under her before unfolding the paper. The first thing she saw was a large picture of Harry, which had been taken during the battle at the Graveyard, she could see herself in the background of the photo. Unlike most photos in the Wizarding World, this one did not move. She assumed it was so that people could see Harry's face clearly. Her own face was out of focus.

 **HARRY POTTER STILL AT LARGE**

 **CROUCH FUNERAL TURNS TO HORROR**

 **WEASLEY FAMILY ATTACKED, TWO DEAD**

Hermione scanned the opening article which detailed Harry's known life so far, up to the killing of Albus Dumbledore. The article continued on page three, so she turned to said page and read what was typed there. The story about the attack at the graveyard was detailed here, somehow twisted around to implicate Harry as one of those that had instigated it and declared him a known Death Eater accomplice. There was no mention of Barty turning on his father save for a brief mention that Harry had last been seen at the graveyard chasing the youngest Crouch when he tried to flee. The next part of the article under the smaller headline **YOUNGEST WEASLEYS SLAIN**. Hermione read through it too. Apparently, the story the Order had given was that Harry had broken in and killed Ron and Ginny for no reason. No pictures were shown of the bodies, perhaps because then they would have to explain why Ronald had had the word _RAPIST_ carved into his face and his genitals had been utterly mutilated; for starters, that didn't fit at all with the narrative and it certainly didn't fit with Harry's _modus operandi_ , which as far as the Wizarding World knew, only consisted of blasting Dumbledore off of a tower and killing Jimmy with a Killing Curse, the last of which was complete rubbish as it had been Bellatrix that had killed him. Nowhere in the articles did it mention that Harry had been helping them fight off the Death Eaters at the graveyard or that anyone but Harry – who wasn't even there – had been involved in the fight at the Burrow.

Hermione made a disgusted noise and tossed the paper on the floor, where it promptly disappeared and reappeared folded perfectly on the desk. Hermione scowled but refrain from commenting.

A hand landed on her shoulder and she flinched, quickly moving away from the touch, an image of Ron reaching for her flashing through her mind. She looked up at Lily, who was eyeing her sadly. "It's okay, Hermione," she said softly, sitting down next to the younger girl. "No one is going to hurt you here."

Hermione nodded and chastised herself for letting something so small as a touch affect her so. She just hoped that she didn't react like that when Harry touched her. She didn't think she could stand to see the hurt in his eyes if she did. He wouldn't blame her, she knew, but still.

"What was in the letters?" Lily asked.

Hermione glanced over at the letters on the desk. Lily could just go and read them herself. No one would stop her. Hermione knew why she didn't though. She was trying to get Hermione to talk, even if it was just something trivial. Hermione wanted to stay silent just for the sake of it, but she knew that Lily would just worry about her if she did that.

"Just Bill and Luna," she told her.

Lily hummed. "Are they all right?"

Hermione nodded. "Yeah. They're safe. They're updating the wards around their homes so that no one from the Order can find it. Bill said something about making sure only a select few people would be able to enter. Harry and I included. And you, of course. Luna is doing the same and Bill is gonna be going over to help them set up some extra defenses. He knows a lot of stuff like that, being a Curse Breaker."

Lily nodded. "He's good with Runes. So are you."

Hermione smirked. "I'm okay with Runes. I can translate really well but actually manipulating them is something Harry excels at."

Lily shook her head. "You set of the Runes for the ritual and they worked flawlessly."

Hermione nodded. "I got lucky."

Lily laughed. "Hermione, stop being so modest. It doesn't suit you. It wasn't luck, it was knowledge."

Hermione smiled this time, truly smiled. "Harry said the same thing before we even did the ritual."

"He's a smart boy. I would say I raised him up right, but I can't take credit for that." Lily looked miffed. "To think he turned out so well after being raised by Voldemort."

"Actually," Hermione corrected. "You have Barty Crouch Jr. and Regulus Black to thank for that." She looked at the trunk at the end of the bed where Harry's journal was stashed. "He wrote a bit about it. How they were his closest companions. Then Regulus disappeared and it was just him and Barty. Harry won't say it, but he missed Regulus a lot when he disappeared. He's dead now. He also misses Barty. Even now, I'm sure." She looked over at Harry. "Silly boy. He doesn't know when to give up on his loved ones. This is the second time that Barty has seriously injured Harry. Had I not followed them and had I not been able to get Madam Pomfrey to fix him, I think Harry may have died. I don't know if that was what Barty wanted, but he certainly isn't giving me much reason to believe that their friendship can be mended."

"Why would you want them to mend the friendship if he keeps hurting Harry?" Lily asked with a bemused expression on her face.

"Because," Hermione said in a tone as if she were explaining something that was obvious. "He needs friends. Right now, he has me, and to a lesser extent Luna. I know he has Charlie and Bill as allies but they aren't his friends. Not yet. Neither are Tonks and Fleur. Barty is his oldest friend and besides myself the only one he has left. I have to hope that they can reconcile their differences, for Harry's sake. Everyone needs friends, even him, despite what he would have us all believe. Barty too, I'd imagine."

"If Barty cares as much about Harry as you say, then why hasn't he come over to our side? It seems like his loyalty to Voldemort trumps his friendship with Harry." Lily's voice was a bit clipped.

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe he thinks he can keep Harry safe if he's the one coming after him. He's had several opportunities to kill or capture Harry, but he hasn't taken any of them. Doesn't make any sense at all."

A small click of Rune's beak drew her attention but the bird was seemingly just trying to get Crookshanks' attention. Said feline was pointedly ignoring him though, which made the bird extend his wings and fluff himself up before cawing again. Crookshanks just looked at Hermione and lazily flicked his tail.

Hermione shook her head at the antics of the two animals. "I can't help but think he's playing with Harry. Trying to push him toward something. I hope not. Harry doesn't like being treated like a puppet. He's not just some weapon to be pointed in whatever direction one chooses, he's a man. He deserved better than the lot he was given."

Lily reached over and patted Hermione's hand and Hermione fought to keep herself from flinching. "Things will get better."

Hermione nodded. "I hope so."

 **XXXX**

Harry awoke, healed, a week later. His bruises had faded and his body had completely recovered thanks to the potions Hermione had been feeding him. The first thing he noticed upon getting his bearings was that he was in the basement of the Potter House in Godric's Hollow. The second thing he noticed that there was an unmistakable tension in the air and it seemed to be centered around Hermione, who was acting a bit more closed off than usual.

She had not noticed that he was awake yet, as she was sitting on the edge of the bed, a book laying open in her lap, but she wasn't reading it. Harry knew this because she had not turned a page in several minutes. Her shoulders were sagged but still somehow stiffened, like she was carrying a heavy weight on them. One hand was absently playing with the hem of her shirt. Harry recognized all of the tell-tale signs of a Hermione who was deeply troubled by something. He wondered if it had anything to do with why they were in Godric's Hollow rather than Grimmauld Place.

He made to sit up, but Crookshanks sitting on his chest made that action somewhat difficult. He glared silently at the cat, who gazed blandly back, clearly unfazed by Harry's annoyed expression. Harry laid his head back against the pillow again. "Hermione?" he called in a voice that was rough from disuse.

Hermione practically jumped off the bed in fright as Harry's voice broke the silence. She spun about, eyes wide and her breathing hitched. "Harry? Oh, you're awake!" Her expression grew considerably brighter and she crawled across the bed to him, her hands picking up a protesting Crookshanks and setting him aside so she could check on Harry.

While his bruises were mostly gone, a bit remained around his left eye, nothing overly noticeable though.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, eyes roaming over him but her hands never quite touching him.

Harry winced as he again tried to sit up. "Stiff," he answered honestly.

Hermione nodded, biting her lip, then the gently help him pull himself up until he was sitting with his back against the headboard. "Do you need anything?"

Harry shook his head. "No. No thank you." He looked around at the basement again. "What happened? Why are we in Godric's Hollow?"

Hermione bit her lip again and her eyes went downward as the started fiddling with the hem of her shirt again. Harry instantly became even more worried. Why was she nervous? Why couldn't she meet his eyes? What on earth had happened?

"Hermione," he asked worriedly. "Hermione, love, what happened? What's wrong?"

Hermione was clearly distressed and he could see tears forming in the corners of her eyes. Harry felt his heart clench. Seriously, what had happened to make her this way. He hadn't seen her this worried or upset since she had returned from her parents' house after Obliviating them. Had something happened to her parents? Had something happened to his mother? The others?

"Hermione, please," he coaxed. "Talk to me." He reached out to take her hand and she flinched away before he could. He himself recoiled at the obvious rejection and raised his eyes to hers. If anything, she looked even more upset now and the tears were falling freely.

"I'm sorry," Hermione gasped out. "I didn't mean to...it just happened..."

Harry was even more confused now. Was she referring to her reaction just now or something else.

"Don't be sorry, Hermione," he said in the most comforting way he could. "Just tell me what's going on."

Hermione sniffled and took a deep breath. "I think it would be easier to just show you." She stood up and went outside the curtains surrounding their little corner. Walking to the desk, she picked up something there and came back, closing the curtain behind her again. This time she didn't climb back on the bed, but stopped at the side and handed him the object.

He looked at it and realized it was a copy of the Daily Prophet. Curious, he unrolled it and looked at the headlines on the front page. The first two were no surprise to him. He had expected as much, but the third caught his attention. He flipped to page three and read through the article a couple of times. When he was done, he rolled the paper back up and tossed it aside, not caring if it vanished when it hit the floor.

"Well, obviously I wasn't there, but I'm getting the feeling you were."

Hermione still wouldn't meet his gaze.

Harry sighed. "Come here," he requested, waving her over.

Hermione hesitated, then climbed on the bed and crawled over to him. He reached for her slowly, giving her time to prepare herself. He wasn't sure what exactly was wrong, but he knew that he needed to be patient with and considerate of her. Hermione stiffened up but did not flee as she had before. Gently he took her hand and waited until she seemed to adjust to his touch, then pulled her slowly to his side. She settled beside him against the headboard and he wrapped one arm around her, making her freeze again. He waited, lightly rubbing her arm comfortingly. Slowly, she began to relax in his embrace.

They sat in silence and Hermione, taking deep breathes and pushing the memories of Ron assaulting her out of her head, leaned her head onto Harry's shoulder, closing her eyes and letting his presence surround her. His warmth, his smell, the steady rhythm of his breathing. She was glad that the curtains were drawn around them. While she knew Lily would be ecstatic that Harry was awake and finished with his potions regimen, she wanted this quiet time just to them. She knew it was selfish but right then, she didn't care at all. She needed this. She couldn't let herself stay in this dark place anymore. Eyes on the horizon, Granger!

Hermione sighed. Harry was waiting for her to speak. He didn't say anything more to that effect, but she instinctively knew that that was what he was waiting for. She could take as long as she needed. He could be patient, for her. That alone gave her the comfort and strength she needed to open her mouth and tell the story.

"After you went down, I chased Barty off," she started. Harry turned toward her and his embrace tightened just a bit. "It was horrible...there was so much blood. I brought you back to Grimmauld but I knew I couldn't help you. I don't know enough about healing and I didn't want to risk making it worse. So, I took the map you borrowed from Fred and George and went to Hogwarts. I went to the hospital wing to find Madam Pomfrey. With McGonagall as Headmistress now and Madam Pomfrey working with the Order, there was no way she would agree to come out and help you. So...I stunned her...and kidnapped her."

Harry raised a brow at this but said nothing, waiting for her continue.

Hermione cleared her throat. "I sat in the chair for hours keeping my wand on her while she healed you. When she was done I Obliviated her and sent her back to Hogwarts. You were under the influence of a Dreamless Sleep Potion so I guessed, rightly so I might add," she added that little bit with a hint of her old confidence, getting into the groove of her storytelling, "that you would not be coming round for some time yet. I realized that your mum wasn't in the house with us and I got worried. I hadn't heard from any of the others either. We still haven't heard from Tonks yet either. I hope she's okay...anyway, I went to Shell Cottage to check in on Bill, Charlie and Fleur, and they were all safe. Then I went to Luna's house and she and her father were safe as well. But your mum, she wasn't at either place. I don't know where Tonks lives so I couldn't check there but Luna told me that your father, sorry, _James_ had been insistent that she go with him from the graveyard. So, Xeno went to get Bill and Charlie while Luna and I went over the hill to the Burrow."

She shifted in her seat, cuddling closer to Harry, her anxiety flaring back up at the mention of the Burrow.

"I scoped the place out with my Omnioculars and discovered that Lily was there, being kept in the parlour with Remus to watch her. Ginny was in the kitchen. When the others arrived we decided that they would disillusion themselves and wait outside while I went in and tried to get your mum out without a fight. However, when I got there, Ginny was gone. I knocked on the door and Ron answered. I wasn't prepared for him and spun a yarn about you and I having a falling out. That still makes me feel all wrong to think about. He bought it a little too much and kissed me. I tried to shove him off but he wouldn't go."

Her breathing was picking up as the memory. She could feel those hands on her again. She began to fidget in Harry's embrace and he shushed her gently, letting her know that it was him there and not Ron. His voice calmed her just enough to continue the story.

"I blasted him off of me but he came back. He trapped my hands and tried to push me down on the table but I fought back and the next thing I knew I was on my back on the floor and he was choking me. I clawed and hit but nothing was working. So, I gouged his eyes with my thumbs." She looked down at her hands. Was that a bit up dried blood under her nails? "Then, I mutilated him...and killed him. The whole time he was attacking me, no one came to my aid. No one. They were right in the next room and not one of them came to help me. Your mum, she was held down by some spell of Remus' but Remus and Ginny just let it happen..." she trailed off, seeing the look in Harry's eyes. The cold, deadly fury and the rigid set of his jaw. She had seen that look before; when he killed Neville, when torturing Dolohov and just before he beat him to death with a wooden chair. "It's okay, Harry. He's dead. He can't hurt me or anyone else anymore."

Harry nodded stiffly, his nostrils flaring. "Tell me," he said. She knew what he meant, but he continued regardless. "How did he die?"

Hermione took a deep breath. "I gouged his eyes out first to get him off of me. Then, I castrated him with a cutting curse, multiple times...then I hit him with the Killing Curse."

Harry looked her in the eyes, something akin to pride coming forward there at her words. "Good." He was glad the bastard had suffered first, even if his suffering was all too brief in his mind. "What happened next?"

Hermione launched back into her tale. "Ginny insulted me, and you and kept screaming so I killed her too. Your mum and I fled here while the others went to their own houses. They couldn't have helped me...the Order knew we were coming and had attacked as soon as I was inside and occupied with Ron. We all made it out and I don't think there were any other casualties for the Order than those two...And that's it really. We've been here just waiting for you to get better so we can make our next move."

Harry nodded, obviously still angry. "I think it's time to move up our timetable," he said. "The longer we sit idle and do nothing, the more time Voldemort has to rebuild his power. We've dealt a crushing blow to him with the killing of all of those recruits. His forces are reduced to a handful. Barty, Wormtail, Yaxley, Greyback, Rabastan and Rodolphus, Amycus, Alecto, Mulciber...none but these few remain. The rest are either dead or in prison. The only one among them that would give me any challenge is Barty and Voldemort himself. I'll be honest, I don't know if I have the power to defeat Voldemort but I have to try."

He winced as he turned to stand up. Hermione gasped and scrambled to help him stand. "Be careful, Harry. Don't push yourself too hard too fast. Take it slow."

Harry scoffed. "After all this, a bit of stiffness isn't going to kill me." He stretched, feeling his muscles loosen and his joints pop loudly. He then cracked his neck pleasantly. "Ah that feels good. Okay, where is Rune? We need to send word to Shell Cottage and the Rook that I am back up and going. We also need to get in touch with Nymphadora; find out what's been keeping her out of communication."

"Rune's been gone for three days," Hermione told him. "He went out the other day and hasn't come back yet. He's around somewhere though because he keeps leaving the paper just outside the trapdoor for us."

Harry opened his mouth to speak but just then a loud tapping noise echoed through the room from the direction of the trapdoor. Hermione threw open the curtains and ran over to the trapdoor to let the raven in while Lily poked her head out from behind her own curtains to see what was going on. She spied Harry, who had followed Hermione out from their 'room', and ran to him, wrapping him in a warm, motherly hug.

Harry winced again and lightly patted his mother on the back. "Don't fret, mum," he said. "I'm all right."

Lily shook her head. "First your arm and now this. If Barty doesn't quit trying to leave you alive he's going to kill you!"

Harry barked a laugh at that. He couldn't contest her logic on that one. Barty seemed content to avoid killing Harry directly but his methods left something to be desired; Harry could and would attest to that.

Rune's cry drew their attention back to the present moment and the bird flapped over to Harry, settling on his shoulder with a letter in his beak, which he waved in Harry's face, urgently telling him in his own way to take it and read it quick as it was important.

Harry, sensing the urgency of his familiar, took the letter and tore it open with no regard for the state he left the seal in. He unfolded the parchment and read through the short and straightforward message scribbled there in Nymphadora's untidy scrawl.

"Damn," he murmured, after he finished.

"What is it?" Hermione asked, seeing the change in Harry's stance. Something was wrong. "What's happened? Is Tonks all right? Bill? Charlie? Luna? Did the Order get to them?"

Harry shook his head. "No. It's worse. The fools are making their move. They're going to attack Voldemort directly."

 **XXXX**

 **A/N: All right. That's that chapter done. Just one more and then the Epilogue left to go. I want to thank everyone who has stuck with me this far. Leave me some feedback and I will see you all soon.**

 **-Atrocity.**


	37. There Are No Heroes Here

**XXXVII. There Are No Heroes Here, Part I**

Hermione's and hands flew to her mouth in horror. "No. What are they thinking?"

Harry laughed humorlessly. "They aren't thinking, and that's the problem. On top of everything, Nymphadora has been roped into the Order's plan by Kingsley and Sirius."

"They can't possibly hope to defeat him," Hermione said. "Without the Horcruxes being destroyed he's essentially immortal. Even if they destroy his body he'll just come back again and again. Oh, Harry, we have to stop them before they ruin everything!"

Harry ran a hand through his hair. "I know, Hermione, I know. Not to mention that Barty will tear them apart before they even get close to the Dark Lord."

Hermione nodded her head in agreement. She had seen that man fight and knew very well how accurate Harry's statement was. The man had killed Mad-Eye Moody for crying out loud, and Moody was no push over, having garnered a hard-earned reputation as one of the best dark wizard killers in the world.

"We need to help them," Lily said.

Both teens looked at her with raised brows. Hermione was the one to speak though. "We really don't. They've more than shown that we are their enemies. The only persons we owe anything to are the Twins and that's just because they've given us indirect aid." Hermione sighed. "But they have Tonks. We can't let the Order drag her off to her death, Harry, she's one of ours."

Harry nodded. "All right. Get some parchment, write a letter to both Xeno and Charlie. Tell them to all gather at Shell Cottage."

Hermione nodded and opened one of the drawers of the desk and pulled out parchment, quill and ink. She began scribbling furiously while Rune hopped about on the desktop in an impatient manner.

"We'll meet up with them soon enough, but there's someone I need to go see before we do. Scratch those letters, Hermione, love, I want you and mum to go ahead and meet up with the others. Tell them what's going on and make sure everyone is ready for when I get there. We'll meet up with Nymphadora at Malfoy Manor within the hour."

Hermione huffed and wadded up the notes she had been writing, tossing them carelessly to the floor. "Where are you going?" she asked.

"To get another ally on our side," he said summoning his wand and holster to his hand and fastening it around his forearm. "I think I know someone who deserves as much a shot at the Death Eaters as we do."

Hermione's eyes showed understanding. "Peasegood," she said. It was not a guess.

Harry nodded. "Got it in one. He fought well at the graveyard and I severely doubt that his need for vengeance has been sated. I'm counting on that blood-lust to bring him to our side."

Hermione nodded. "And if he doesn't agree?"

Harry shrugged. "Then he didn't love his family and can rot for all I care." He pulled on his boots and gloves, then donned a long-sleeved black shirt that would allow maximum freedom of movement while also protecting him from the elements. "Right. Dobby! Kreacher!"

The familiar double _pop_ of the two Elves appearing was heard and they both bowed.

"Yes, Master?"

"Mr. Harry Potter Sir has called Dobby?"

"Kreacher, take Hermione and my mother to Shell Cottage. Stay with them in case they need anything." Kreacher bowed again and offered his hands to the two women. Lily took it after making sure she had her wand.

Hermione went over to Harry and kissed him after only a second of hesitation. Harry carefully placed his hands on her hips and returned the short embrace. "Be careful, Harry. We don't know enough about Peasegood to know if he'll help us."

Harry nodded. "I will. Go on now. I'll be there soon."

Hermione bit her lip with worry but went to Kreacher and the three of them disappeared.

"All right, Dobby. I need to get to the Peasegood House. Can you manage that for me?"

"Of course, Mr. Harry Potter Sir, I'm an Elf!" Dobby replied with aplomb.

Harry smiled fondly at his most constant companion. "Yes you are, my friend." He held out his hand to Dobby. "Shall we?"

Dobby recovered quickly from being called 'friend' by the 'Great Mr. Harry Potter Sir' and took the proffered limb.

The surroundings blurred and then came into focus as Harry found himself standing in the entrance hall of a manor house. The interior was weathered-looking stained wood with a destinctly saxon feel to the whole place. War horns and weapons adorned the walls and a banner bearing the image of a set of scales framed by plant stalks of some kind, flanked by particularly Nordic-style dragons like those that were fitted to the prow of Saxon and Viking Longships.

That was the sigil of House Peasegood, and the plants were pea plants, from which the family drew their name.

Well, at least he knew he was in the right place.

He walked further into the house, making sure to keep his guard up. There was no telling how Peasegood would react to Harry showing up in his house unannounced.

" _Homenum Revelio_."

An invisible wave of magic pulsed out from Harry as he cast this spell and a moment later, he could see a glowing pale orb floating behind a wall up ahead of him. After a second, the glow vanished.

Harry strode carefully forward, taking steady steps and making sure his footfalls were as quiet as he could make them while wearing boots and walking on a stone floor; luckily there was a long carpet in the center of the walkway but his heels still made a solid thump with every step.

He reached a door that led to the general area he had seen the orb in and eased the door open. He peered inside, seeing no one there. Had he gone to the wrong room? There was another down the hall, he could see the door from here, but he was sure it was this one.

He stepped into the room, just to make sure and instantly found himself slammed up against the wall with a wand pressed against his throat. "Is that death I hear stalking me?" Arnold growled, teeth bared and his eyes somewhat wild. "What are you doing here, Mr. Potter? Or should I call you the God of Death?" There was a stink about him that told of whiskey consumption; and quite a bit of it, and recently. His eyes, however, were clear and focused, so he was not drunk.

"I have a proposition for you, Mr. Peasegood," Harry said, deciding that it was best to just get to the point.

Peasegood pressed the wand a little harder against his throat. "You aren't selling anything I want, boy."

Harry smirked. "Oh, I don't know about that. How does the chance to finally bring down the bastards responsible for the death of your family sound?"

Peasegood glared. "I already killed those hooded bastard that day in the graveyard. Fitting, don't you think? I hope my family got to enjoy the show and know that I avenged them."

Harry gave him a sympathetic look. "Then why are you drinking so heavily?" His voice was soft but stern. "You can't deny it. I can smell it."

Peasegood lowered his wand and stepped away from Harry, convinced that he wasn't a threat; not to him. Not anymore.

"It hasn't gone away, has it?" Harry asked. "Not the pain; no, that never will. But the anger, the rage. Your heart still calls for vengeance, despite your mind telling you that you already had it."

Peasegood glared at him, his long hair falling in a slightly tangled curtain around his face. "What do you know about it?" he snapped harshly.

Harry met the gaze calmly. "More than you think."

A look of understand passed over Arnold's features. "The girl. Granger." Harry nodded. Peasegood gave a short humorless chuckle. "I heard what happened at the Weasley house. Official word is that it was you who killed them and that there was no motive except that they were a 'light' family, and you are a Death Eater piece of shit." Harry raised a brow at this. "But I know better." He tapped his nose. "I can read evidence, see the photos. The motive is spelled out right there for all to see. R-A-P-I-S-T; how anyone could miss that is beyond my ken. If someone had done that to my woman, I'd kill them too. If they hurt my family in any way, I would make them suffer." As he said this he picked of a small glass of amber liquid and downed in a single swallow after sniffing it.

Harry saw his opening and took it easily. "Then grab your wand and let's go make the bastards suffer."

Arnold smiled a smile that displayed absolutely no happiness. "Will it make the pain stop?"

Harry shook his head. "No, but it will feel damn good."

Arnold cocked his head in an 'all right' manner. "Good enough. Lead the way, Mr. Potter."

"You can call me Harry," Harry told him. "Everyone else does. Besides, Mr. Potter is my father, and I honestly hate the man."

Arnold shrugged. "Fair enough. I'm Arnold, but my friends call me Arnie; or they would if I had any of those left."

Harry clapped him on the shoulder. "You got me, Arnie. Now come on."

"I'll take what I can get," Arnie shrugged, making Harry smirk.

"Dobby!"

"Mr. Harry Potter Sir is calling Dobby?"

"Yes, Dobby. I need you to take our new friend and I to where the others are at. Can you do that, my friend?" Harry knew he could, he just felt like making the Elf feel good, just in case things took a turn for the worst and he came down with a bad case of death today.

Dobby held out a hand to both of them. "Yes, Mr. Harry Potter Sir!"

Arnie looked at Dobby skeptically as he tied his hair half-up and out of his face. "Well, at least someone is enthusiastic about all this." He took Dobby offered hand after receiving a small glare from Harry.

With a _pop_ , they were both transported to a small stretch of magically hidden beach on the outskirts of Tinworth, Cornwall.

Harry wondered why they were outside rather than in the Cottage but he realized that Dobby had had the foresight to not drop him and a relative stranger right into the middle of a bunch of battle-ready witches and wizards. He could see them all inside through the open windows.

Peasegood was looking around. "Nice place. This where you live?"

Harry shook his head as the two men marched toward the house. "No. I live in a hole in the ground."

Arnie raised a brow. "You're joking right?"

Harry shook his head again. "No."

Harry strode up to the door of the Cottage and knocked on it, deciding it was best not to just barge in, for the same reasons that Dobby had not dropped them inside.

The opened and he and Arnie found themselves on the business end of several wands. "What was I doing the first time we met?" Hermione demanded, her wand in Harry's face.

Harry raised a his brow. "Looking at a Love Potion in Fred and George's shop?"

Hermione frowned. "Are you asking or telling me?"

Harry looked around at them all in concern. "Telling?"

Hermione huffed. "Damn it, Harry."

"What were the first words I spoke to you?" Bill asked.

Harry decided to play along. "'We haven't properly met, I'm Bill.'"

Bill nodded and lowered his wand, Charlie and Fleur doing the same. Hermione turned hers on Arnie. "What were the first words you spoke to Harry and I and what did we respond with?"

Arnie looked at Harry, who shrugged to show he didn't know what this was all about either, then back to the brown-haired girl. "I asked who you two were. You answered, well Harry answered, 'friends of the family'. Now, you wanna get that wand out of my face?" His voice wasn't threatening, just annoyed.

Hermione nodded and lowered her wand and stepped back to allow the two men to enter.

Harry stepped inside and saw Luna and Xeno standing by the fireplace. "Xeno," Harry greeted grasping the man's hand. "It's good to see you again."

"Likewise, Harry," Xeno replied.

Luna came over and gave Harry a warm hug. "Glad to see you back in the world of the living. According to Hermione, it was a bit touch and go for a bit. Don't worry, I knew you wouldn't just go and die on us. You're too stubborn for that." She smiled at the slightly backhanded compliment she had just delivered.

"Thanks, Luna," Harry replied, looking at a perplexed Hermione. She gave him a general gesture of 'I don't know, it's Luna', which basically cleared things up quite nicely. "So, now that we're all here, we need to go. I assume Hermione filled you in?" Everyone nodded, except Peasegood. "So, I hoping we still have time to head off the Order but if not, our main priority is to take out as many of the Death Eaters as we can with as little loss of life on our side. I also want to try and avoid a direct fight with Voldemort, because despite the Order's seeming belief here, we are not ready for that, and the Order will never be ready for that."

"Speaking of the Order," Charlie cut in. "What's our stance toward them in this battle? Friend or foe?"

Harry frowned. "Foe. I'm not asking you to kill your family members, guys, but if they have to be put down, don't hesitate to stun or petrify them. Get them out of the way, but only if they are hostile toward you. Anyone not here or with the Order is a dead man walking, you got me? I don't want prisoners at the end of this, shoot to kill, with one notable exception; if you see Barty, I want him _alive_."

"Barty Crouch Jr.?" Arnie asked, arms crossed as he listened to Harry's rules of engagement.

Harry nodded. "Yes. He has something of mine that I need back and I need him alive to learn where it is hidden. Now, you have your orders, any questions? No? Good. Enough chit-chat then. Let's go. Dobby! Kreacher!"

The two Elves appeared and bowed, giving their usual greetings and shooting annoyed glances at each other; well, Kreacher did.

"There are nine of us here, so we'll have to make multiple trips. Charlie, you're with me, Xeno, you and Hermione follow right with us." Harry took Dobby's hand while Charlie took the other.

They disappeared and reappeared outside the gates of Malfoy Manor. It was quiet, so Harry looked around, trying to see if the Order was here yet. They weren't. Good, they had gotten here ahead of them.

A second later, Hermione and Xeno appeared right next to them with Kreacher. "Dobby, Kreacher, bring the others, quickly."

The two Elves disappeared again and a moment later returned with Arnie, Bill, Luna and Lily. A moment later, Fleur joined them as well.

"All right, it doesn't look like the Order is here yet," Harry said.

Before he even finished speaking there was a loud explosion by the front gates and the two Death Eaters there were consumed in a ball of fire. A second later, the ward surrounding the house shattered.

"Well, they're here now," Bill commented dryly.

"How did they do that? I've never seen someone destroy a ward like that!" Xeno murmured.

A moment later, a group of people came rushing out of the trees nearby and into the breach they had created. Harry saw James, Sirius, Remus, Arthur, Percy, Fred and George, McGonagall, Hagrid, Kingsley, Nymphadora, and Molly all running full-pelt into the grounds of Malfoy Manor. There was also another wizard who was making his way at a slower but steady pace. He was old with long grey hair and a beard that reached down to the bottom of his chest. He carried himself with an ease of movement and a confidence that reminded Harry of Dumbledore.

"Aberforth," Hermione gasped. "That explains it. I should have guessed it was him."

" _That_ is Albus' brother?" Harry asked, looking to his lover for confirmation.

Hermione nodded. "He usually stays out of the fight. Prefers to just tend his bar in peace. I don't know how they got him out here today but if he's here then they are at least serious about this battle. Aberforth was like his brother. He prefers action over talk and I will admit that he is much more like you than most would admit."

Harry looked questioningly at her. "How so?"

"He stopped coming to meetings after he and Dumbledore got into an argument about how to draw the Death Eaters out. Dumbledore wanted to take a wait and watch approach, but Aberforth wanted to use their children as hostages. Said it would be easy to do during the school year with a lot of them being there in Slytherin. Needless to say, it didn't go over well. He didn't even show up to Dumbledore's funeral."

"Can we discuss all of this later?" Peasegood interrupted. "We've got a battle to join and Death Eaters to kill."

Harry nodded waved them forward, grasping Hermione's arm, holding her back. "Be careful in there. Shoot to kill, okay? Stay low, keep your head down and don't stay in one place for too long."

Hermione nodded, biting her lower lip. "Okay." Harry made to stand and follow the others but Hermione grabbed his arm and pulled him back. "Harry, you be careful too. Don't...don't try to be a hero."

Harry smiled and kissed her tenderly. "Don't worry, my love. There are no heroes here."

They stood and rushed through the gap in the fence, wands drawn. The battle was already raging at full swing with dozens of low-level Death Eaters having been sent out to meet the advancing Order. It would seen that Voldemort that kept some back from the battle at the graveyard; smart.

Now, if there was one word to describe a Wizarding battle, it would be chaos. Pure, brilliant chaos. Balls and beams of light in every color imaginable and some that didn't have color at all, where flying in all directions and it was only by some skill and grace that one wasn't hit as soon as entering the fray.

Harry's first move upon entering this battle was to cast a cutting curse point-blank into a Death Eater's throat with enough power to send his head toppling to the ground before running deeper into the mass of fighters. To the left and right, he fired spells, wandless with one hand, the Elder Wand in the other.

He and Hermione were quickly swallowed up and separated by the clashing forces and Harry found himself in the midst of black cloaks, firing at all that moved. He was avoiding using Killing Curses in this mess. The last thing he wanted was for a stray blast of green to miss its target and accidentally strike one of his own fighters. He had too few allies as it was, and he couldn't afford to lose more due to carelessness.

Another cutting curse laid low a nameless masked fighter, then another. He heard a cry and turned to see Nymphadora trying to hold off three Death Eaters at once and her shoulder was coated in blood.

Harry made his way toward her, cutting down another Mask and sidestepping some poor fool who had been been hit with an entrails expelling curse and was now doubled over on the ground puking his guts up, literally. He reached her as she was trying to hold them off with a shield but it was in danger of shattering. A silent _Reductor_ sent one of them to the ground with a hole blasted through his head and two quick cutting curses saw the final two to the afterlife.

"You all right?" he called to Nymphadora as he turned about and deflected a curse that had been sent at his unprotected back; the fool who fired it had screamed the curse, alerting Harry just in time. He blasted the man dead without a thought and cut down another Death Eater.

Nymphadora came up beside him and rejoined the fight. "I'm fine." She parried a dangerous-looking red curse. "You?"

Harry blasted a charging Death Eater in the knee, then grabbed his head, twisted and snapped the neck. He let the man fall dead at his feet and raised a shield to block a volley of curses. "Can't really complain," he said, slitting a man's throat with the cutting curse.

"I'm totally glad you all got my message." She ducked a Killing Curse, which flew over her head and killed another Death Eater, giving Harry justification for not using the curse right now. "This is suicide!"

Harry grabbed Nymphadora by the scruff of her neck and yanked her back just as a Killing Curse flew by where her head had just been.

"Thanks!"

"Your friends have a death wish?" He batted a bone-breaker hex back at its caster, who collapsed in a heap as it impacted his collarbone.

"More like just stupid," Nymphadora said, her shield absorbing a stunner that Arthur had aimed a bit wide.

"They're using non-lethal spells," Harry said with some disgust as he killed another man. "How many bloody Death Eaters does this bastard have left!"

More and more of the masked fools kept joining the battle. Every time Harry or one of the others cut one down, two more appeared. He spied Hermione nearby as she unleashed a blasting curse directly into a Death Eater's face, his or her head exploding in a shower of blood, gore, grey matter and skull fragment.

If Harry was being honest, he was quite proud of his beloved. She had proven to be stronger than either of them had expected. Her killing of Ron Weasley had been a moment of truth. She had been confronted with her own darkness and true to his own words, had found something of herself there that she was now channeling into the battle. The girl who had been so horrified at seeing him kill a man in Knockturn Alley was gone, replaced by the woman with the spirit of a wolf and the ferocity to match.

Another Killing Curse flew by and Harry growled. He cut the man's throat and then before he could fall, levitated the corpse into the air and launched into another group of Death Eaters heading their way.

He followed that up with a _Bombarda Maxima_ that impacted the group as they struggled to get back to their feet. Most were killed by the blast, but a few lay screaming with whole body parts missing.

Nymphadora was no longer at his side and he was not sure when she had become separated from him but a moment later he saw a explosion of black smoke to his left. Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder. Not a second later, the twins came running out of the cloud, throwing Parthian Shots back into the darkness.

The cloud did not linger as long as it had in the Battle of Cross Hill as this was in the open and there was a breeze. The powder and the magical darkness it created soon cleared but when it did, the Twins were wishing that it hadn't.

"Damn, I thought for sure we hit him, George," Fred muttered, looking at the advancing form of Fenrir Greyback.

"Contrariwise, Fred, I fear we may have just angered him," George returned.

They both fired stunners at the werewolf, who was thankfully still in human form as this battle was taking place in the daylight and the full moon had been a few days ago. The red balls of magic hit Fenrir in the chest but he paused for only a second before he was advancing on them again, his wand held at the ready.

He fired a Killing Curse at one of the twins who barely managed to avoid it, but it was followed up with a blasting hex that sent him tumbling head over heels to land in a motionless heap nearby. The other twin, cried out and ran to check on his brother but a cutting curse struck him across the back, felling him too.

Harry looked at the two fallen Weasleys with a blank expression. He didn't know if they were dead or not but if he didn't want to join them he needed to fight. He reached inside his vest where his second wand was kept. He had lost his original wand again at the Department of Mysteries but he had taken Dolohov's wand at the end of that same battle. It didn't work as well for him as his own wand or the Elder Wand did but it would have to do.

Fenrir saw him and growled, grinning like the cat who ate the canary. "Well, well, well, the wayward son returns."

Harry didn't say anything back, just focused his magic and gave both wands a sharp flick, causing two ropes of fire to extend out, one from each wand. He had last used this technique against Remus the previous year. He hoped it would have as much effect on the unturned werewolf as it had the transformed.

Greyback looked at the fire with fear in his eyes, which made Harry smirk. "What's the matter, Greyback? Afraid of a little fire?"

Not bothering to give the werewolf time to respond, Harry lashed out with the whip in his right hand, the rope of flame arching out and snapping harshly against Greyback's cheek. He howled in rage and pain as he recoiled from the blow.

Greyback raised his wand and glared, his cheek now a violent shade of crimson. " _Avada Kedavra_!"

The green spell raced toward Harry but he sidestepped it nimbly and struck out again with one of the whips, catching Greyback in the same cheek again.

Now, sufficiently angered, Greyback roared and charged Harry, all thoughts of using his magic abandoned as he resorted to his preferred method of combat: his teeth and claws and brute strength.

Harry knew that he could never hope to match Greyback blow for blow and he stood no chance in a conflict of strength. It was lucky for him that he possessed the two skills needed to take the behemoth down. Speed and intelligence; two attributes Greyback was not particularly graced with. He had speed when in wolf form, but there was no full moon to save him this time.

Harry lashed out with whips as Greyback charged him, roaring his challenge to the heavens as he came, the tongues of flames snapping out to harass and wound the beast. There was no blood, as the flames cauterized all marks they made so he could not rely on Greyback being gradually weakened by steady blood-loss but the pain would make him angry and the anger would make him more aggressive and that aggression would make him reckless; stupid.

Harry dove to the side and tucked into a roll that brought him back to his feet as Greyback made to pounce on him. Coming out of the roll, Harry snapped a whip across Fenrir's back, eliciting another howl of pain from the hulking Lycanthrope.

"BASTARD!" Fenrir roared, launching himself at Harry again.

Harry dodged the attack and struck again at his opponent's exposed back. He snapped the other whip and willed it to wrap around Greyback's leg, then gave it a sharp tug, using the forward momentum of Greyback's charge against him, tearing his feet from beneath him. Harry ended the flame spell that created the whip and quickly took aim with a cutting curse to Fenrir's head. However, Greyback managed to struggle just enough that the curse hit his shoulder instead.

Harry cursed and took aim again, but Greyback, showing great resilience, grabbed hold of Harry's fire whip and gave it a tug of his own, dragging Harry off of his own feet toward him. Harry held tight to his wand, not daring to let it go. The last thing that needed to happen was for Greyback of all people to get his hands on the Elder Wand. He canceled the whip and it vanished from the werewolf's hand, leaving Harry laying face-down on the ground a few feet in front of him.

"I'm gonna tear you limb-from-limb, boy," Greyback said, gaining his feet and stalking toward his fallen foe. "Imagine how the Dark Lord will reward me when I kill you. I'll have done what that fool Crouch could never do. I'm gonna kill the God of Death!"

Harry fired another cutting curse at Greyback's neck but the werewolf batted it aside as if it were no more than a mildly annoying fly.

Harry cursed as he regained his feet and settled into his dueling stance, two wands trained on the grotesque behemoth before him.

Greyback growled. " _Avada_ -"

" _Diffendo!_ "

The cutting curse slashed Greyback across the face, spraying blood into the grass at their feet.

Harry looked at his unlikely savior and nodded his thanks. Bill returned the motion and fired again at Greyback, his next curse cutting the werewolf in the chest.

Greyback roared and moved his hand away from his face, where it had been covering the wound Bill had inflicted. Blood gushed down his cheek and nose, one eye now missing thanks to Bill.

"You just made a big mistake, boy!" Greyback sneered.

Bill snorted and ran his thumb against his own facial scars, given to him in the Battle at Hogwarts by Greyback himself. "Just returning the favor, cur."

"I remember you," Fenrir said, peering at Bill with his one remaining eye. "I should have killed you when I had the chance."

Bill smirked. "You tried, and my brother kicked your ass"

"Well, you brother won't save you this time," Fenrir growled advancing on him.

"He won't have to," Bill fired a cutting curse. "I've got the God of Death on my side."

Harry smirked too and joined Bill in unleashing a hail of cutting curses on the werewolf, whose shield was quickly overpowered and his body was soon a mess of cuts and slashes.

Yet still be came at them, spurred on by a rage and blood-lust to rival even the most vicious of killers.

"Bastard just doesn't know when to give up and die!" Bill slashed again.

"He's not much for the brains department." Harry parried a return curse.

"You aren't holding back again are you?" Bill ducked a Killing Curse.

"I am." Harry sliced at Greyback's throat with a curse.

"Well, don't do that!" Bill landed a blow against their foe.

Harry sighed. "All right, all right. Guard me."

Harry stepped back and Bill held off Fenrir alone for a moment. Harry focused his magic and began to expel it into a aura around himself. " _Ā_ _dr_ _æ_ _dan_!"

The aura exploded outward, encompassing the entirety of the three combating forces. Suddenly, the Death Eaters and the Order all collapsed to the ground, screaming and holding their heads, their eyes going wide and then began thrashing about as if trying to escape from some unseen terror.

In front of them, Greyback was in the same state, as he lay on the ground, curled up in a ball and trying to protect his face and neck from an unseen attacker.

Bill looked around at the effect that Harry had just unleashed and his mouth fell open in awe. "What on earth did you just do?"

Harry smiled tiredly, swaying lightly on his feet. "Dread spell. Advanced Illusion magic. Took me forever to get that right. Now, if you don't mind, could you start killing all these bastards before they get up? The spell won't last long." Harry pointed his wand at Greyback. " _Avada Kedavra_!"

The spell struck the werewolf in the side and he suddenly ceased moving.

Bill started going around cutting throats with the cutting curse. Around them, the others still standing started doing the same. Soon, all of the Death Eaters in the lawn of Malfoy Manor were laying lifeless, their blood staining the ground a deep shade of crimson. By then, the effects of the Dread had worn off and the Order were now struggling back to their feet.

"What the blood hell was that?" Sirius shouted, looking around at all the dead bodies. His gaze settled on Harry and he marched over to his, his eyes ablaze. "What the hell did you just do?"

Bill stepped between the tired Harry and the angry Auror. "He just saved your lives," Bill snapped. "He save all of our lives." He waved a hand around at the dead Death Eaters. "We were outnumbered and outmatched. We could have all died because you lot decided to be stupid and initiate a direct assault against Voldemort's stronghold. Are you all bloody stupid?"

Sirius snarled and took a swing at Bill, but Charlie stepped in and with a quick twist had Sirius on the ground. "Calm down, both of you."

Hermione was now standing next to Harry, supporting him as he leaned on her a bit, breathing somewhat heavily at the amount of magic power he had just burned through.

"I don't know what Harry just did," Charlie admitted. "But it won us this battle. Now, I think we should get the hell out of here while we can. Get our wounded to safety and come back another day." He walked over and began checking on the fallen Fred and George, whom Molly, Arthur and Percy had just noticed and were now running over as well.

Harry looked Hermione over for any injuries but besides a bit of dirt and blood smeared across her face and clothes, he could see nothing of note. The blood clearly wasn't her own. He felt a swell of pride at his beloved.

"The boy is right," a new voice said, and Harry looked over to see Aberforth step into the small circle that had formed around Harry and Hermione. "We have won the day, let us go back and regroup." He looked at Harry. "That was some impressive magic there, boy. But, I would expect no less from the man who killed my fool brother."

Harry smiled. "Just don't ask me to do it again. It might kill me, I think." He chuckled like it was the funniest thing in the world. No one else laughed and no one else saw the humor in it at all; but they weren't Harry so that didn't matter.

Aberforth just gave him a nod and tried to apparate out, only he couldn't. He tried again, same result.

"Bollocks," Harry cursed realizing what was happening. "We're trapped in." He glared at James and Sirius. "I don't care if this was your idea or not, but I'm blaming you. Any of us that die today, that blood is on your hands, bastards."

He shifted his weight off of Hermione and looked around. He couldn't see anyone, but that didn't mean that they weren't there.

"Come out, Barty!" he yelled. "I know this is you!"

"Like a bunch of mice into a trap," Barty's voice spoke from the side and they all turned to find him suddenly standing behind Nymphadora with his wand pressed against her throat. "Wands down, I think, yes?" He pressed the wand harder against Nymphadora's neck, causing the young woman to tense up even more than she already was.

"Don't do it, guys!" Nymphadora told them, shaking her head a fraction.

"Shut up," Barty snapped, his head right against hers to minimalize the target it presented. "Make a single move and I kill her, you understand. Then my friends will kill you." He grinned savagely.

Harry looked around and realized that they were surrounded. The Carrows, the LeStrange brothers, Yaxley, Wormtail, Mulciber...

"Damn," Harry muttered. He dropped Dolohov's wand into the grass and subtly hid the Elder Wand up his sleeve behind the cover of Hermione's body, which was partially between him and Barty.

One by one the others tossed down their wands too.

"There, now, that wasn't so hard was it?" He shoved Nymphadora aside after taking her own wand from her hand and summoned all of the wands to him, handing them off to Rabastan. "Taken them to the dungeons," Barty ordered. He grabbed a handful of Hermione's hair. "Except this one," he said, looking Harry in the eye as he made to attack Barty. His wand against Hermione's neck stopped him short. "I'd like a private _word_ with this one. Put our wayward brother in his hole and make sure to lock it from the _outside_." The LeStrange brothers took hold of Harry, who shoved Rodolphus and punched Rabastan before he felt his body stiffen up in a full-body bind. Barty _tsk_ ed at him. "Take them away."

They began to carry Harry away but Barty called out to them to stop.

He walked up to Harry and reached to his right sleeve, plucking the Elder Wand out of it. "Nice try, mate. But, no dice." He waved them on and went back to where Hermione was being held by Alecto. He took her back and pressed his wand against her back, urging her forward.

Harry and the others were marched, or carried in the case of Harry, Fred and George, into the house and down into the basement, then further still into the dungeons. The others were all shoved into barred cells while Harry was carried down the spiral steps to his old cave and tossed onto the earth floor unceremoniously before he heard the door far above him close solidly and the locks all slide into place.

He was left in the pitch darkness, and for the first time he was not comfortable with it.

 **XXXX**

Hermione yelped as Barty suddenly pushed her through a doorway into what appeared to be a bedroom. He closed the door behind them and secured it with the lock. Hermione backed away from him, her entire being on high alert as memories of the last time she had been alone with a man who wasn't Harry came rushing back. She'd be damned if she let something like that happen to her again. She'd die first.

But, Barty didn't so much as look at her as he went about the room, erecting privacy wards and other such protections.

Hermione gulped and felt her heart-rate increase, her breathing picked up too. No one be able to hear her scream now.

Barty went to the window and opened it up, securing it with a hook then made sure that the curtains were tied back. He then picked up a small glass orb and touched his wand to it and it began to glow a brilliant blue. He set the orb on the windowsill and turned back to face her. Hermione wondered what the orb did, what purpose it served and how it worked. Her musing allowing her to alleviate some of her mounting fear, though not by much. She was still stuck in a room with a vicious, cold-blooded killer.

She took the moment to study Barty himself. She had been in his presence before but never truly looked at him. He was tall and thin, almost lanky, and he carried himself with an ease and grace that reminded her of a big cat; smooth and agile.

His hair was a shade or two lighter than Harry's and worn short and stylishly combed. Whereas last time she had seen him he had been cleanly shaven he now sported a shadow of stubble.

He was dressed in a dark suit; black blazer, black waistcoat, deep purple shirt and a darker purple tie, with a coal grey scarf draped around him neck. All in all, she could see where Harry had picked up his dress sense.

"What do you want with me?" Hermione demanded, since Barty seemed content to just wander around the room messing with various things while ignoring her completely.

Barty paused and looked at her almost like he had forgotten that she was there. He held her gaze for a moment then turned away and went about doing what he was doing before; nothing. He sat down in a chair and crossed his legs, eyes toward the window and the small blue orb.

Hermione frowned at the blatant dismissal and general lack of anything nefarious happening. Not that she wanted him to do anything but she was just confused and thrown off by his behavior. He had said he wanted a word with her, and she had taken that as code for he wanted to take her and assault, defile and generally have his wicked way with her to hurt Harry. Now she wasn't so sure. If he wanted to actually speak to her, he wasn't doing that either, so what the hell is going on?

Finally, without even looking at her, he spoke for the first time since entering the room. "There's a bathroom right through there were you can clean yourself up. Go on." She felt a small wave of magic hit her and before she even realized it she was stepping into the bathroom and closing the door behind her.

Hermione leaned against the door after flicking the lock into place. Why had he wanted her to come in here? Was he planning something that required her to be clean? Oh, gods, was he going to...but only after she had cleaned all of the blood and dirt off of herself? She felt herself shiver as memories of Ron and his actions sprang to the forefront of her mind. Was Barty going to do the same? She wasn't sure she had the strength to fight him off if he did. He was no Ron Weasley; no he was infinitely more dangerous.

Looking at herself in the mirror, she admitted that she did look a right mess. But the charm – whatever it was – was only to get her into the bathroom, it didn't last past that point. She wasn't feeling the unstoppable need or desire to wash or bathe. Maybe he had just added the charm because he knew that she would argue or try to divert the conversation otherwise.

She was actually a bit surprised that the charm had worked on her. It was extremely difficult to influence others wills in general but the magic had to be subtle. On top of that, it was not very effective on those of strong mind or will and Hermione had excellent Occlumency shields thanks to Harry helping her learn it over time during the school year and afterward at Grimmauld. She chalked it up to her being already confused and too tired to resist it. Or maybe he was just really good at it.

Deciding that there was nothing for it, she stripped off her outer layer of clothing until she was standing in naught but her knickers and went to the sink. She looked at it, then over to the bathtub, then to the door. She would prefer a bath but all that stood between her and that bastard out there was a door with a lock and he had a wand so that would do little to hold him at bay should he decide that he was indeed going to take advantage of her.

Deciding to forgo the bath she picked up a towel and turned on the sink, soaking the towel in the warm water then using it to scrub her face, hands and neck clean. After than she did a quick scrub of the rest of her body and then donned her clothes again, grimacing at the blood staining them. But, there was nothing for it. She was not going to go back out there without her clothes – she'd rather die – and she could do nothing for the clothes without her wand, which was in Barty's possession.

As she thought this, the gravity and hopelessness of her situation slammed into her like a ton of bricks and she felt her knees buckle. She was a prisoner now. Harry was a prisoner now. All of them, her old friends and teachers, her friends, her loved ones; they were all prisoners now and would undoubtedly be tortured and killed by Voldemort. Before she could stop herself, a choked sob escaped her and she curled up into a ball, her body shaking as she sobbed pitifully on the floor. They had lost.

She wasn't sure how long she had been down there but she suddenly felt a pair of strong arms lift her up off the floor and carry her back out into the bedroom. She knew it had to be Barty, but she hadn't even heard him come in. She was too weak now that she had cried herself into exhaustion to even fight back as he carried her like a child to the bed and laid her down.

"Well, we can't have that now can we. _Tergeo_ ," she heard him say and felt the blood and dirt vanish from her clothing. "Better. Can't have them thinking that I'm mistreating you now can we?"

Hermione wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt. "What?"

Barty chuckled as he retook his seat. "What? Did you think I was going to molest you or something? I'm a great many things, Miss Granger, but a rapist I am not. And quite frankly, I'm insulted that you would think so lowly of me, given that I've just saved your life and the life of all of your friends."

Hermione glared. "Saved? You didn't save us. You've killed us all." Barty raised a brow as if to tell her that he had no idea what she was talking about. So, Hermione continued. "What do you think will happen to us all? What? We'll just live happily ever after in a cell? No, Voldemort will kill us, all of us."

Barty waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "No, he won't."

Hermione sat up now and snapped, "Yes he will. It's what he does."

Barty grimaced. "True. But, I can assure you that that will not be happening to you or your friends."

Hermione looked at him like she thought he was stupid. "And how is that?"

Barty smiled at her, and it was equal parts terrifying and encouraging. "Because, dear sister, he'll be too dead to do anything at all." He looked out the window again while Hermione tried to figure out what he was saying and why he had referred to her as 'sister'. "Just waiting on an old friend and everything will be made clear."

After that, they fell into silence. Hermione laid herself back down on the bed and looked around the room. It was a nice room, clean and open and far too lavishly decorated for her taste but one thing she did notice was that aside from the small orb, there was a distinct lack of personal objects in the room. No books, no pictures, no paintings, no clothes, grooming utensils. Nothing. There hadn't even been a toothbrush in the bathroom and only a couple of towels. It was like no lived in this room at all.

"Is this your room?" Hermione asked finally, the silence beginning to feel oppressive. She'd rather be locked up with Harry than up here in this gilded cage, locked inside with a killer whose motives were so back and forth and his allegiance constantly in question.

Barty looked at her briefly, then turned back to the window and Hermione thought that he wasn't going to answer her for a minute. "No. This is Harry's room. Well, it used to be. Now it belongs to no one. My room is down the hall."

Hermione looked at the room again, trying to imagine Harry living in here. It just didn't fit at all. It was too light in this room. Too open. Harry preferred the dark and the cave-like spaces.

"If you're trying to picture him living in here, don't bother," Barty cut off her train of thought. "He never slept in here. Couldn't stand the sunlight shining in. No, he slept down in the dungeons. From the day he arrived here until the day he left."

Hermione nodded, having expected that. She wondered if that was where they had put Harry. She had heard Barty say something about putting him down in his hole.

"Is that where he is now?"

"Yes," Barty answered. "My body-bind should have worn off by now and he'll be up and about. No doubt we'll be seeing him again soon. Probably. With a little help that is."

Hermione frowned. Help? Then it clicked. "Dobby."

When the little Elf did not appear, Hermione became concerned that Barty had set up a ward to prevent House Elves from getting in. She didn't know of any such ward but perhaps he had created it.

"Yes, that would be the sensible route, wouldn't it? Well, he could call Kreacher, I suppose..nah, probably Dobby. Well," he went back and forth arguing the merits of either choice to himself while Hermione watched with an expression of near-horror as she came to realize that she was stuck in a room with a madman. "I'm gonna go with Dobby," he finally decided. "He likes that Elf. _I_ like that Elf. He's a good Elf. He was wasted with the Malfoys. Luckily, old Lucy let Harry buy him off of him. Never seen an Elf so happy as when Harry bonded with Dobby."

"But why leave Harry somewhere where he can easily escape from?" Hermione asked, completely flummoxed.

Barty looked at her in disappointment. "Why, indeed? And here Harry was all talking up how smart you are. I must admit I am not really seeing it."

Hermione glared at him but her mind was working over what he had just told her. Harry was captured but with an easy and ready means to free himself, and the others if he saw fit, while she herself was up here, out of harms way and...protected. Her eyes widened.

"There you go," Barty grinned, seeing the realization dawn in her eyes. "Took you long enough but better late than never, I say; unless being late will have dire consequences, then it's not only a bad thing, it's just plain rude."

Hermione ignored his ranting. "You're trying to help Harry," she said.

Barty looked at her as if she were slow. "Yes, I do believe we already established that."

Hermione wasn't listening to him though. She was too busy trying to rationalize and what she had just figured out. "All this time, you've been playing both sides. Fighting for Voldemort but making sure Harry stayed alive all the while." Her gaze hardened. "You bastard. You could have said something to him. He's spent this whole time worrying because he didn't want to have to kill his best friend! You could have told him!"

Barty sighed and leaned back in the chair. "Honestly, it was for the best that Harry didn't know. He would have insisted I come over to his side openly and I just couldn't have that. I am in too good a spot here to let that advantage slip. If I was here and Harry didn't know I was on his side I could operate more freely and-"

"You let him think you were against him! He could have killed you! You could have killed him!" Hermione could feel hot tears pricking at her eyes.

"I didn't bloody plan it that way!" Barty snapped. "I had intended to set it all in motion that night at Hogwarts. Harry would come back with me and we'd find a way to destroy those foul Horcruxes and then kill the Dark Lord together! But then, Bellatrix, the mad bitch, had to go and fuck it all up by killing his little brother and in turn Harry slaughtered her! I couldn't bring him back after that. The Dark Lord would have killed him on the spot. Bellatrix was his favorite and he would not have accepted Harry's reason for killing her. What started out as a simple, straightforward plan turned into a real clusterfuck in the space of a few bloody minutes!"

He took a deep breath once he realized he was shouting. "I had to reevaluate the plan. Figure out something new. I tried again in the Department of Mysteries. I had you all captured and Harry incapacitated. That bloody arm of his was a bit of a wild card but I got rid of that easily enough. If he had kept it I would never have been able to convince the Dark Lord that I had actually caught him. He'd have smelled the trap a mile away. But then that damned Order had to come in and muck it all up again. At least I was able to take that bastard Mad-Eye out but we took considerable losses and the Dark Lord was none too pleased. I haven't been _crucio_ ed like that in ages. It's lucky he didn't kill me! He wanted to but he also knew that I'm his best now that Bellatrix is dead so he had no real choice in the matter. I had a backup plan in order for that occasion and I'm damned glad I didn't have to use it."

"What backup plan?" Hermione asked. She was to thrown off by all that she had just learned to say anything else. She understood why Barty couldn't be open in those cases. The other Death Eaters were present at the Ministry and at Hogwarts he had been too caught off guard by Harry's actions to properly plan on his feet. At the graveyard she had seen him kneeling over Harry but not killing him. Had he been planning to take him with him then, before she stepped in?

Barty opened his mouth to answer but was cut off by a familiar, avian cry. "Finally," Barty muttered, getting to his feet.

Hermione gasped as Rune the Raven flew in through the window and landed on blue orb on the sill. "Rune? What are you doing here?" Hermione asked, looking at the bird.

Rune cawed in that way he had that sounded so much like laughter, then before her eyes, he began to grow in size until she was no longer looking at a raven but a dark-haired man in black robes.

Hermione's jaw fell open and she gaped at the man, her mind running in circles trying to figure out what in the hell had just happened. "I...I...I..."

The man smirked, not unkindly. "Well, that's a new one. A speechless Hermione Granger."

Hermione continued to gape. "You...you.."

"I think you broke her," Barty said with some concern as he too looked at the skipping record player that was Hermione Jane Granger.

Hermione finally snapped out of her reverie and found her voice. "You're a man?"

The man chuckled and made a show of looking down at his body. "Last time I checked."

Hermione glared, making him smile even more. "Who the hell are you?" she demanded.

The man smiled and brushed a hand through his shoulder-length dark hair, his steel-blue eyes meeting hers. "My name is Regulus Black."

 **XXXX**

 **Note: Regulus is portrayed in my head by James McAvoy as he appears in the X-Men films as young Charles Xavier.**

 **XXXX**

 **XXXVII-2. There Are No Heroes Here, Part II**

Harry groaned with relief as he felt Barty's body-bind release, allowing him full control of his being again. He sat up with a hiss and pressed a hand to his head. He was so tired after unleashing a Dread aura on so many targets, but he couldn't allow himself the time to properly rest; had it been a single or even a handful of targets, he would have been no worse for wear but as it was he was severely drained. He had to get out here. He had to find Hermione. He had to kill Barty and get back those damned Horcruxes. He had to kill Voldemort. Damn it all, he had to bloody end this.

His arms were shaking as he pushed himself up and managed to get his feet beneath him. Swaying slightly, he fell against the rough earthen wall of the cave he had once called home. He had heard the door up the stairs being locked so there was no point in just walking up there and opening it. He could unlock it, maybe, but he had charmed those locks to be resistant to such things during his time here. And even then, there was likely to be someone on guard up there and he was in no state to fight without his wand; he excelled at wandless magic but it still required more power than using a wand to focus and filter the magic.

The answer, he realized, was blindingly simple and obvious. No matter what wards he or the others had set up, there was one thing that was not prevented from entering: House Elves. He had left it open to them so Dobby could come and go at will, the Death Eaters would not ward against them because they didn't know how and didn't consider House Elves to be a threat to them. Barty had long ago developed a way to keep House Elves out but had kept that secret between the two of them; not even Voldemort knew about it, not that he would think it necessary as he too thought of the powerful magical beings as weak and far beneath wizards and no threat whatsoever.

"Dobby!" Harry called out, not bothering to stay quiet. The room was warded so that no sound from inside could be heard outside.

A small _pop_ announced the arrival of Harry's loyal servant and friend. "Mister Harry Potter Sir has called Dobby?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, Dobby, I did. I need a couple of things from you now, my friend. First thing, I need some Pepperup and a few Stamina Potions. Quickly, please."

Dobby bowed again. "Yes Mister Harry Potter Sir." Another _pop_ and he was gone, only to returned with the same tell-tale _pop_ as before with several bottles in his arms.

He handed the Pepperup to Harry first who downed it quickly, feeling the warmth seep into his bones and warm him up from the inside out. "Ah, I needed that. After spending so long in an actual room and sleeping in a warm bed I had forgotten how cold it was down here. Now, the Vitamix, if you please." He took several phials of a brilliant, electric blue potion and drank them down.

Vitamix was an easily brewed potion with some interesting ingredients. Root of Asphodel and Wormwood were normally used to create the Draught of Living Death, along with a few other ingredients, but add in some Aconite – or Monkshood or Wolfsbane as it was commonly called – it in itself quite toxic and one found themselves with a significant boost in energy. Harry drank three of them before he felt himself better than new.

"All right," he sighed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Now, I need to get out of here, Dobby. Can you pop us both up to the corridor outside?"

Dobby nodded eagerly. "Yes, Mister Harry Potter Sir!" He took Harry's hand and the two of them vanished, only to reappear just outside the door to the cell they had just been in. He was surprised to find that there was no one on guard up here.

"Are there any guards in the dungeons?" Harry asked the little Elf.

Dobby _pop_ ped away briefly then reappeared in front of him. "There is being two, Mister Harry Potter Sir."

"Which ones?" Harry pressed.

"It is being the twins. The bad man and woman," Dobby answered.

Harry hissed. "The Carrows." He pondered for a long moment then nodded. "All right. I can take them. But, while I engage them, I want you to free the others. Got that?"

Dobby nodded with determination. "Yes, Mister Harry Potter Sir."

The little Elf vanished again and Harry crept down the corridor and into the dungeons. He took quick stock of the situation and began to formulate his plan. He could take the Carrows down simultaneously with another Dread and then kill them, but without a wand the drain would be steep, nowhere near as steep as earlier but he needed all of the strength and energy he could muster if he was to fight Voldemort and even then he was not sure he had the power to do so, Prophecy or no.

He peered over the top of the short staircase that led up from the lowest level, where his cave was, into the dungeon proper and noted that the Carrows were standing in front of a cell, he couldn't see who was in it though from here.

Originally, there had only been a single cell that took up the entire lowest level of the basement, all the prisoners stuffed together in one room, unchained and just left to their own devices. This had changed after an escape was attempted when a group of prisoners all overpowered a pair of Death Eaters who were sent to bring one of the prisoners up for questioning. All the escapees had been put down with extreme prejudice and after that, Voldemort had ordered proper cells be built, styled after the cells in Azkaban, which Lucius had seen on several occasions in his time working with the Ministry. Now, they kept no more than two to a cell at a time and there were some thirty cells, so they could easily have divided up the Order and Harry's friends with one person per cell and still have plenty of room left over.

Down the center of the corridor, which the cells flanked, there were stone pillars spaced every twenty feet or so for support.

Harry darted out and pressed his back against the nearest pillar. He had to get the Carrows away from the cells so that Dobby could unlock them all.

He froze when he heard a whimpering sound from the nearest cell. He glanced over and his eyes narrowed as he saw a girl, no more than eight, curled up in the corner wearing what resembled a dirty pillowcase, much like how Dobby had been dressed when Harry first met him. He felt his blood boil at the obvious signs of torture on the girl; her limbs shook with the residual effects of frequent Cruciatus exposure and there was blood staining her 'garment'. He didn't see any open wounds and he shuddered to think of what had been done to the girl.

She looked up then and saw him, her eyes widening and she tried to shuffle back further, but her back was already against the wall and she just began to sob harder.

The boiling in his blood stilled into an icy calm. He knew that the Carrows were sadistic and not above such things. Whether it was them or not, he intended to make them pay, and then the rest would follow them to the grave. He was done letting Voldemort and his followers pervert the world with their presence.

He crouched down and picked up a loose bit of stone on the floor and gently tossed it against the rails of the opposite cell, which was vacant, resulting in a resounding _clang_ that echoed off the stone walls and easily carried down to the Carrows.

He heard a brief bit of conversation between the two twins which ended in Alecto being sent down to see what the sound was while Amycus stood guard by the exit. Harry bared his teeth in a silent snarl as the heard the approaching footsteps of the female Carrow – one might have said the 'fairer' Carrow but that would have been a lie; there was nothing fair about either of the sick, foul facsimiles of human-kind.

Harry braced himself, his muscles tensed and ready to spring into action as the footsteps grew nearer and nearer. He recognized the stride easily enough and confirmed to himself that yes it was indeed Alecto; she actually had a heavier stride than her brother; where Amycus walked with purpose and relative ease, Alecto stomped and lumbered in a misguided attempt to portray danger and power; such a thing may work on a weak, defenseless commoner, but Harry was none of those things and knew that even without a wand he could easily take Alecto down.

As soon as the first bit of Alecto came into sight around the pillar, he struck.

He pounced out from behind the pillar and struck Alecto in the throat, cutting off any call for help or curse she may utter, then he dragged her into his cover and applied pressure to her already wounded windpipe, cutting off her air supply. As was the case with most who were being choked, she tried to pry his forearm away, not thinking to strike his exposed and unprotected body or curse him. He took advantage of the her momentary lack of clarity and wrenched her wand away from her. Her eyes widened as she realized that she no longer had a means to defend herself from him; she again made the mistake many a pureblood wizard had made: she forgot that physical force was a viable option in a fight. Such a thing was taught to be beneath wizards and a 'barbaric muggle action' from a very young age, which is why Harry had insisted on learning some of it. Barty knew some hand-to-hand combat techniques and had taught them to him; Barty only learned them himself because he 'admired the savagery in it'.

Alecto clawed uselessly at Harry's hand as he continued to choke the life from her until finally her arms fell limp at her sides and her eyes stared wide and bulging, and unblinking, back at him. Just to be sure that she was really dead, Harry pressed the wand to her and uttered a quiet " _Avada Kedavra_ ".

"Sister," Amycus called out from the far end of the corridor. "Everything all right down there?"

Harry stood to full height, knowing that Amycus would come to investigate the bright green flash he had seen when his sister didn't answer him back.

"Sister?" Amycus called again, an edge now evident in his tone as he grew worried by the lack of response he was getting.

So predictable, so dead, Harry thought as he heard the first footsteps coming in his direction.

He held his position and his breath as Amycus drew nearer. He conjured a long thin length of thin wire connected on either end to a bit of wood into his hands and stuffed the wand away for later use; it would drain him more to use a curse, particularly an Unforgivable, than it would to do things the 'muggle way'. He gripped the wired in both hands by the wooden handles and waited.

Amycus drew nearer still, his footsteps slow and cautious as he called out for his sister again. When Harry determined that he was just on the other side of the pillar he was hiding behind he began to inch around in the opposite direction, keeping himself to the far side from where Amycus was standing.

Finally Amycus saw the body of his sister laying dead on the floor and froze in place. Harry seized his moment and lunged, looping the wire around Amycus' throat and then turning swiftly so that his back was against the taller, older man's, then bent forward, pulling the wire taut. A rasping, gurgling sound met his ears as Amycus struggled, the razor wire cutting deeper into his flesh with every little movement.

Harry pulled tighter and tighter, feeling the hot, sticky blood soak his shoulders, neck and back, even some in his hair. Still he pulled, cutting deeper and deeper with the wire until he felt it hit bone. By this point, Amycus had stopped fighting and did little more than twitch every so often, and even that stopped soon after as Harry let go of one of the handles and the body fell to the floor, the wire no longer hitting nerves that caused parts of the body to jerk. He ripped the wire free from the body and it gave one final twitch before falling still.

He looked down at his handiwork with a sense of grim satisfaction. The bastards had deserved to suffer and so they had. And he still had plenty of energy left afterward. All in all, it had worked out quite well. He sent a silent thank you to that bastard Barty for making him sit through all of those muggle films, particularly the spy and gangster ones – The Godfather had truly been a piece of art.

A series of clanking sounds filled the air and one by one the cell doors began opening. Charlie stepped out of one nearby and took in the sight of the two Carrows dead at Harry's feet and the bloody garrote still held in Harry's hand. He raised a brow and nodded his approval. He bent down and picked up Amycus' fallen wand, holding it tightly in his hand for later use.

Arnold Peasegood took in the sight with a smile that said he was more than happy that more Death Eaters had gone to the void.

Bill joined them with Fleur and the French woman looked at the gruesome sight and turned away, retching. Bill too looked a bit green in the face.

To distract the gentle woman, Harry asked her to go and check on the little girl in the cell in the back. Calling on Dobby to take the two of them to a secure location, along with any other prisoners who were not Order members.

Nymphadora and Lily were standing a bit away from them, taking in the scene.

"Hey!" Sirius yelled from the cell where he and Remus were locked up still. "Let us out!"

Harry eyed him distastefully. "No, I think I like you just where you are." He didn't see any advantage in letting his enemies out to cause more trouble. It was their fault that they were in this mess in the first place. He decided to tell them as much. "You're the reason we're all in this mess," he growled, stalking toward where the Auror was glaring from behind the bars. "If you idiots had listened to me and followed the plan back when we were all at Grimmauld, none of this would have happened. So, no, I don't think I'll be letting any of you out. Just stay here, out of the way, where you belong."

He didn't wait for a response and began walking toward the exit from the dungeons. He didn't have time to waste bothering with these fools. Hermione was up there somewhere with Barty, who was doing gods know what to her. He felt his blood run cold at the mere idea that he could be harming her, or worse.

He took the stairs two at a time, and he could hear several sets of feet following him.

"What's the plan, Harry?" Charlie asked from just behind him as they climbed.

"We get up there, find Hermione, take down the Death Eaters, kill them, find the Horcruxes and then kill Barty. Then we kill Voldemort." Harry drew the wand he had stolen from Alecto and blasted the door ahead of him off of its hinges with a snarled " _Reducto!_ "

The eight of them found themselves in the entrance hall of the manor and Harry led them to the stairs that acted as the closest point of access to the residential area of the house; where all of the bedrooms and such were located.

"Do you have any specifics for that plan?" Bill asked.

Harry nodded. "Yeah. Barty will have undoubtedly taken Hermione to his room, up on the third floor. We go there, we break in, save Hermione, get the Horcruxes from Barty in whatever way we have to, then we destroy them with Fiendfyre."

"You're sure Barty would take her up here?" Lily asked, concern coloring her tone. Harry could only guess what sort of horrible fate she was imagining for her son's beloved at the hands of his former best friend.

"Yeah, he would," Harry growled, signaling an end to the discussion.

Harry was halfway up the stairs when a shout was heard behind them. He and the others all turned round to find Yaxley and Mulciber aiming their wands at them. Harry barely had time to drop into a crouch as the sickly green of the Killing Curse sailed unnervingly close to his head.

Charlie and Bill jumped away from where they had been standing as a second curse sailed between them. Harry aimed his wand at them and shouted out the incantation for the curse Snape had taught him before going to Hogwarts. " _Sectumsempra!_ "

The curse struck Yaxley, shredding the front of his robes as a multitude of slashes lanced through him. He fell to the ground with a strangled cry, blood quickly staining the front of his body and pooling around him as he gasped and moaned, one of the cuts having struck his neck, where the artery was.

Mulciber looked at his fallen comrade with shock and dove behind the corner at the base of the stairs as Harry shot a Killing Curse at him.

Harry cursed as the Death Eater dodged his attack. Charlie had his own stolen wand at the ready and turned to Harry after firing a spell at Mulciber, who had poked his head out to try and aim a curse at them. "You lot get going and find Hermione," he said, firing another curse to keep the Death Eater at bay. "I'll handle this one."

Harry nodded and without another word took off up the stairs once more. The others were a bit more hesitant to leave one of their own behind to deal with the threat alone, but as none of them had wands and weren't as proficient with wandless magic as Harry was, they decided that they had best go ahead and follow his lead.

Harry bolted up the stairs and to the first landing up from the ground floor. He ran full-pelt down the corridor, the others struggling to keep up behind him but he didn't slow even for a second as he reached the next set of stairs that led up to the second landing from the ground. Only one more to go. He took the final flight of stairs two at a time and soon found himself standing outside the door of Barty's room at Malfoy Manor. He knew that the man rarely used it, usually having gone to his family home in the evenings to keep up appearances and check on his mother, but now that his mother was dead and he had been outed as a Death Eater, Harry was sure that Barty would be staying here full time now.

It wasn't much a surprise that Malfoy Manor was still the center of Voldemort's operation after the capture of both Draco and Lucius. The Malfoys were too clever by far to let the rest of their allies get caught here. The house was cleared and by the time the Ministry came along to search the place, there had been no evidence that Voldemort had ever even so much as looked at the place. The dungeons would have been cleared of prisoners – probably temporarily taken to one of the others' houses – and the existence of it was not such an odd thing, given how old the house was and that it was once legal to take your enemies captive; no one would question why the Malfoys had a dungeon.

What was a surprise was that they had the funds to keep the house going with all of its residents. After Lucius was captured, his assets would have been frozen by Gringotts and all funds from the Malfoy vaults would have ceased being available. Perhaps the LeStranges or Yaxley had taken up the role of primary providers of gold. Narcissa certainly couldn't have done so, as she was no longer a member of House Black, something Harry had seen to early on, and she didn't have a personal vault.

Harry blasted the door off the hinges and stormed into the room, wand raised and glanced about.

It was empty.

He cursed and lashed out with his magic, shattering the window and splintering the door to the bathroom along with the writing desk and wooden bed-frame.

"She's not in here," Lily said, stepping in behind him, looking around. Her expression was one of deep-rooted worry and her eyes were glistening with unshed tears as she again conjured up images of what could be befalling poor Hermione at the hands of that madman.

Harry's nostrils flared. Where the hell had Barty taken her?

He turned on his heel without a word and marched down the hall a ways, stopping in front of what had been his own room. He reached out and grasped the handle, turning it easily and pushing it open. He didn't think that they would be in here but it would be foolish not to check. After all, it would be something Barty would do, taking Hermione to a place that was once Harry's territory as a way of further insulting Harry in his seeming defeat.

The room was empty too.

Not that he had expected anything less, but he still felt a pang of fear in his chest as he wracked his brain for anywhere else he could have taken her.

A cold, icy weight settled in his chest as he suddenly had a thought. What if he had taken her directly to Voldemort? He felt his hand clench into a tight fist and his teeth ground together.

"What's that?" his mother asked from beside him, having again followed him inside while the others stood guard outside.

Harry looked at her with a question in his eyes and she pointed at his desk. Harry followed her finger and his gaze settled in a small, glowing blue orb. Curious, he stalked across the room and looked down at it. He had never seen this item before and he knew for a fact that it was not his. Someone had to have left it there on purpose for him to find; it was the only thing that made sense. This was further supported by the fact that he now noticed that it was sitting atop something.

He lifted the orb off the desk and then took the piece of parchment that was beneath it and unfolded it. He recognized the handwriting instantly. It was Hermione's.

There were only two words written there:

 _Throne Room_

Harry cursed against and smashed the blue orb into the desk, the fragile ball shattering upon impact and releasing a small burst of magic as the glow escaped it, dissipating into a fog that escaped out the window like a small wraith.

"What is it?" Lily asked, coming to his side and placing a gentle hand on his arm. Harry silently held the parchment up to her and she took it from him, reading it. Her eyes widened and the tears finally slipped out, rolling down her cheeks like condensation on a cool glass of water on hot day. "Oh, my dear girl..."

Harry straightened up and began to walk out of the room, his countenance eerily calm.

"Where's Hermione?" Luna asked, looking up at him. Harry knew that she could get the answers straight from his mind if she wished, but she had long ago promised to never again do that to him or Hermione without their permission.

Harry took a deep breath, trying to calm himself somewhat. It didn't work. "He's taken her to the throne room. To Voldemort."

There was a general gasp of horror as Harry's words sank in. If Hermione had been taken to Voldemort, there was a chance that she was already dead.

Harry knew better. He wouldn't kill her, not yet. No, it was all a trap. She was the bait and lure and he was the fish they sought to entice. And he was going to bite, hook, line and sinker. He had to, there was no other way around it. He had to go and get her out of there if at all possible. He had to kill Voldemort. They were forcing a confrontation and he had to oblige.

"He won't kill her," Charlie said, walking up to them.

Harry looked at him, not having seen him rejoin them. "Everything taken care of down there?"

Charlie nodded. "Died begging for his life," he told him.

Harry inclined his head in approval. "You get their wands?"

Charlie held up one. "The other one broke in the fight."

"Give it to Nymphadora," Harry said, gesturing to the currently purple-haired auror. Tonks accepted the wand with a nod of thanks.

"What do you mean he won't kill her?" Nymphadora demanded. "This is Voldemort we're talking about!"

Harry nodded. "Barty won't let him kill her. Not yet."

"She's bait," Luna said, her voice actually horrified and not the usual dreamy lilt it usually was.

Xenophilius was in agreement with his daughter. "I believe Luna is correct. He'll use her to draw you into the open."

"Sounds like something these bastards would pull," Peasegood agreed.

"But how would they even know that we escaped?" Nymphadora asked.

"Barty," Harry informed her. "He'll know that I will have used a House Elf to get out. Voldemort doesn't consider House Elves a threat, thinks they're lesser beings and should worship wizards. Barty knows better that they can move freely about while we are restricted by the wards."

"What do we do?" Bill asked, holding up his hands to show that they had no wands.

Harry opened his mouth to answer but the sound of an infant crying stopped him short and drew the attention of everyone else to the end of the hall. Harry looked down at the place the sound was coming from and frowned. That was Draco's room.

He began walking in that direction, wand held ready in his hand. Charlie followed a step behind. Tonks stayed back to guard their backs.

"Be careful," Lily cautioned. "It could be a trap."

Harry tilted his head as he and Charlie advanced ahead of the others. "I don't think so."

Harry reached the door and turned the handle, pushing it open slowly, letting it glide open of its own accord after a small bit of pressure from him. The cry became louder following the removal of this barrier. There was also a voice, speaking in low, calming tones.

"Shh," the voiced cooed. "It's all right. Mummy's here. Shh."

Harry's eyes narrowed at the voice. He knew that voice.

"Is he hungry?" a second voice asked. That was Narcissa.

"I think so, but the elves aren't coming when I call them," the first voice said. That was Pansy.

Harry stepped into the room and Charlie covered his back.

The two women were standing next to a child's crib and Pansy had the small infant held lovingly to her breast as its cries diminished a bit. Narcissa was conjuring a small bottle of milk and heating it with her wand, grumbling about useless servants.

Harry took in the scene with a light sneer. "What's this? Another Malfoy bastard to pollute the world?"

The two women gasped and turned toward him in shock. "You? What are you doing here?" Narcissa demanded, her voice dripping with venom.

Harry smirked. "I came here to kill your filthy master, Narcissa. Now, unless you and the blonde beast there," he gestured the infant, "want join him in the grave I would suggest you shut your mouth and give me that wand." To prove his point, he pointed the wand at Pansy and the baby. He didn't kill children but Narcissa didn't know that; she'd never taken the time to learn about him, seeing him as a weapon like Voldemort did; at least Voldemort had pretended to care.

Pansy was a different story though. "Harry," she whimpered, trying to shield her child from his view. "You don't kill children," she said, pointed out the truth of the matter.

Harry scowled at her, making her flinch back from him. "You're right, Pansy, I don't. But I have no qualms about making that child an orphan here and now. I don't want to hurt you, Pansy. You at least tried to help me at times, but you've tied yourself to the Malfoys in the worst way and I'm afraid I cannot forgive them for their betrayal of me."

"We didn't not betray you!" Narcissa yelled. "You turned your back on-"

" _Avada Kedavra_ ," Harry muttered in an annoyed tone, the green spell hitting Narcissa in the chest and dropping her like a sack of potatoes and cutting off her ignorant rant before it could really get started. "One grandparent down."

Pansy yelped in fright at the sight and turned away, clutching her once-again crying son to her chest with the obvious natural protectiveness of a mother.

Harry motioned for Charlie to go and retrieve her wand from her body. The bearded redhead did so without a word, kicking her body over and plucking the rod of wood out of her fingers. He walked back over to Harry and offered it to him, but Harry motioned for him to hold on to it.

"Give that to Xenophilius," he told him. "We'll need another wand on our side."

Charlie nodded. "All right." He then stepped out of the room to deliver the wand to the chosen member of their team.

Harry approached Pansy and turned her about with a gentleness that surprised even him. She looked at him with fear in her eyes and tears streaming down her cheeks. "Please don't kill me, Harry," she pleaded. "Please, I don't want to die. I don't want to leave my son. Please..."

Harry frowned and looked down at the child, crying in his mother's arms. He holstered his wand and reached out, lifting the child away from her arms. She let him, fearing what he may do if she fought.

Harry cradled the child in his own arms and the infant began to settle. "I told you to stay out of my way, Pansy." He gently stroked the soft, rosy, round cheek.

Pansy nodded. "I did, Harry. I did."

Harry sighed. "I know."

He looked down at the boy in his arms, who stared back with the blue eyes that all infants shared. He felt a sense of sadness and sympathy for the child. To have been born into the family he had. To be born in the midst of all of this mess. It reminded him of himself...

"What is his name?" he asked, running a finger over the boy's forehead. The child reached up with a fat little fist and wrapped his fingers around one of Harry's own.

"Scorpius," Pansy answered. "Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy. Draco named him before he was captured. Named for his favorite constellation and Hyperion after one of his ancestors."

Harry nodded. "When I told you to take care of Draco, I wasn't expecting this."

Pansy blushed. "It just sort of happened. Draco is a good man, when you get past the petulant exterior."

Harry resisted the urge to snort. "I'll bet." He handed the child back to its mother and turned away, walking to the door. "Mum, Luna, get in here."

He walked back to Pansy with his mother and friend in tow. Lily saw the child and gasped, going to him. She noticed the bottle laying on the floor where it had been dropped when Harry killed Narcissa. She picked up and tested the warmth, then offered it to Pansy, who took it gratefully and began feeding her son with it.

"Where is your wand, Pansy?" Harry asked.

Pansy gestured with her head toward the bedside table. Luna skipped over and picked it up, handing it to Harry.

"I can't let you escape, Pansy. You and your son will be too valuable in controlling Draco and Lucius when they get out. And I have no doubts that they will get out sooner or later."

Pansy hung her head. "I understand."

Harry nodded. "Dobby."

The little Elf appeared and bowed to Harry while giving his usual greeting.

"Dobby, take Pansy and her son to Shell Cottage, where Fleur is. Mum and Luna too. Things are about to get a bit crazy and there aren't enough wands to go around.

"Harry," Lily protested. "We can still help."

Harry was going to retort but Luna beat him to it. "Don't worry, Lily," she said. "We _are_ helping."

"The hell we are," Nymphadora snapped. "He just wants us out of the way because we're girls! You gonna send me away too?"

Harry gave a look that told her to quit being stupid. "Don't be sexist, Nymphadora. It doesn't suit you. Luna isn't a fighter," the blonde girl nodded, "mum can help with Pansy and Scorpius," Lily smiled at the mother and child in question, "and you, I'm not sending you away, so calm down. But if I was, i'd my reasons."

"Like what?" Nymphadora crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes.

"...well, you're clumsy. I'm sorry, there's no other way to say it. Peasegood is a better fighter than you."

"He's just an Obliviator!" she countered. "I'm an Auror!"

Harry glared at her. "It doesn't change the fact that you have two left feet. One mistake in this fight and you'll be dead. That's all there is to it. Keep arguing and you will go, and you'll be making the trip in a magically induced coma if you try to fight me."

Nymphadora glared at him but held her tongue while Dobby took the others away. Once they were all gone, Harry walked out of the room. He held Pansy's wand out to Arnold. "Here, take this."

Arnold took the wand tested its weight in his hand, nodded that it was okay. "What's the plan?"

Harry started marching down the hallway, back the way they had come. "We're going to go to the Dining Room, that's where the 'Throne Room' is. Voldemort always did like to pretend he was more important than he is. Now, I'm sure we'll run into the LeStrange brothers on the way. They're probably guarding the Dining Room from the outside. We'll have to take them out before we go in, and when we do we can get Bill a wand."

Bill and Charlie exchanged glances then looked at Tonks. "We'll take care of them," the elder brother volunteered, inclining his head to the now more-visibly calm auror.

Harry waved a hand to signal that he had heard them. "Arnold, Xeno, you're with me then. When we go in, I want you two to hang back. Stay along the edges of the room. If you are out of the way, he'll probably ignore you in favor of myself. It will give us an advantage when everything goes to hell. Bill, Charlie, Nymphadora when you finish with the brothers, I want you three to do the same as these two. Got it?"

Bill, Tonks and Charlie voiced their understanding.

"And if one of you gets a clear shot at the damned snake, take it. It's a Horcrux. I don't know where the others are but killing Voldemort's physical form will be enough to buy us time to find them all again." He sighed. "Its a worst-case scenario but its the only option we have at this point."

By now they had arrived back on the ground floor and were making their way toward a small alcove that turned out to be the entrance to the Dining Room. As Harry had predicted, the LeStrange brothers were stationed on either side of the doors.

The group came to a stop as the brothers saw them. They drew their wands and took up dueling stances. "You don't want to be doing this, Harry," Rabastan told him, leveling his wand at Harry.

Harry smirked. "No, I really think I do. Step aside Rabastan, Rodolphus, and I'll let you live."

Rodolphus shook his head. "Can't do that."

Harry shook his head sadly. "After everything Voldemort has done to you and your family, you still sit under his thumb. Come on, Rodolphus, he fucked your wife, daily. He made a mockery of your marriage and the Pureblood laws that you all hold so dear. Do you really want to die defending him?"

Rodolphus winced at the reminder of his wife's infidelity. "It's what she would have done. I loved my wife and you killed her. He may have taken her heart, but you took her life."

"Besides," Rabastan said, not looking like he really agreed with his brother but he was too loyal to his family to leave him to face them alone. "We aren't afraid to die."

Harry smiled darkly. "How would you know? You haven't tried it yet." He raised his hand. "Bill, Charlie, Nymphadora, take care of these two for me."

The two Weasleys and one auror jumped into action, throwing curses at the other siblings. Harry raised a shield and ushered Arnold and Xeno after him They edged between the dueling pairs and Harry pushed open the doors of the Dining Room, then closing them behind him after the other two had entered.

Harry turned to the room, scanning it while Arnold and Xeno did as they had planned and made themselves part of the environment, even going so far as to Disillusion themselves.

At first, he thought that there was no one there, but he was wrong. He spied the form of Voldemort sitting calming at the table in his 'throne'. But there was no Hermione, and no Barty. As far as anyone looking in could tell, it was just Harry and the man who had pretended to love him like a father.

Another things that struck him was that there was music playing from an old gramophone in the corner. He recognized the music easily enough. Chopin. One of his nocturnes, but which one he wasn't sure, he wasn't so well versed in the music to be able to tell just from hearing a bit of it. Little known fact about the Dark Lord, he enjoyed muggle classical music.

"Harry, my son," Voldemort greeted him genially, smiling that cold empty smile that he thought looked loving. "You've returned at last. Please, join me." He motioned toward one of the chairs at the table.

Harry took another glance around, confused as to what was going on, then walked over and took a seat, keeping his wand in his hand.

Voldemort looked at him, still smiling, then down at the table. "This won't do." He waved his hand and the table transformed into a smaller, round table. He waved his hand again and a teapot and cups appeared on the table between them, pouring and preparing itself. All the while, Voldemort looked at him with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"How have you been, my son?" Voldemort asked as the milk was added to the two cups.

Harry glared back at him. "Why do you care?"

Voldemort looked at him like he was wounded. "You are my son, Harry. Why wouldn't I care?"

Harry scoffed. "You aren't my father, Tom," Voldemort's eyes narrowed at the use of his birth name, "you never were. You lied to me my entire life."

Voldemort raised a brow. "Did I now? And how do you figure that? I never kept the truth of how you came to be here a secret. You knew who your birth parents were and you knew that they abandoned you. So, how did I lie?"

"You never loved me," Harry told him. "You just pretended to. And I believed it for a while. But when I got older, I saw through those lies. I learned to lie, so of course I recognized it when I saw it."

Voldemort lifted his cup of tea and took a sip. "Yes, well, I did what I thought was best for you."

"You're lying again," Harry said, ignoring the cup of tea offered to him. "You did what was best for _you_ , not me. I was your tool. A weapon to be controlled and aimed wherever you wished. I was just your puppet and you pulled those strings without a single bit of care or remorse for what you did to me or made me do."

"I made accommodations for some of your more idealistic feelings. I respected your code. No children. No innocents. I could have had you do these things, and had you refused, I would have killed you, but I didn't do either of those things. I accepted that there were some lines that you just wouldn't cross and let you have your way." Voldemort sipped his tea. "You were hardly a puppet. A weapon, yes, but let's be honest, that was what you were born to be. I just happened to get to you before the light could. Trust me, if you have grown up under Dumbledore's eye, you would have had an even worse time of it. I would not be surprised if he had found a way to make sure you were raised up like a lamb for slaughter. Did I do that to you? No, I made you a wolf."

Harry glared at him. "You tortured me," he whispered.

Voldemort smirked. "You remember that do you? Hm. Yes, I did, but can you blame me? You came out better for it. Before you were even a teen you already had a pain threshold to rival the toughest of my followers."

"I was a child!" Harry snapped. "I didn't know what was going on. I didn't know why I was being hurt, or where I was. I didn't understand. Then, you blocked my memory of it. I understand now though. You were afraid of me. That Prophecy. You didn't know all of it did you? You sought to break me and hurt your enemies. Well, you ended up making me into the very things you sought to destroy. You made me the instrument of your destruction."

Voldemort studied him silently during the silence that followed his words. Finally, he said. "The Prophecy, yes. I did not know all of it. That slippery snake, Severus withheld the whole thing from me. Kept it secret so that I wouldn't kill him; considering he had information I needed. However, you killed him, and I needed to know all of it. That's why arranged that little venture into the Department of Mysteries. Luckily, you took the bait, just as Barty said you would."

"How did you know I killed Snape before I had even done it? The Order said that you had been talking about something in the Department of Mysteries before I even met with them."

"Well, I expected it of you. I raised you, Harry. I know you better than you know yourself." The Dark Lord refilled his cup. "Besides, I know when one of my Marked Death Eaters dies. I feel it. You are all connected to me." He took another sip. "I must admit I was surprised to learn that you were alive after I felt you die. Removing the Mark was a risky move, my boy. I admit that I underestimated your resourcefulness, and I admire your will to live. It rivals my own. Now, tell me about this Prophecy."

Harry looked at him blankly for a long moment. He was weighing the pros and cons of telling him the whole thing. He was tempted to just go on the attack but decided against it for the time being. He didn't know yet where Hermione was and he had to try and steer the conversation that way, but if he just changed the subject suddenly, Voldemort would know something was up.

" _The one with the power to_ _vanquish_ _the Dark Lord approaches...born to those who have thrice defied him...born as the seventh month dies...and the Dark Lord shall Mark him as his equal...but he shall have power the Dark Lord knows not...and either must die by the hand of the other...for neither can live while the other survives...the one with the power to_ _vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..._ "

Harry rubbed the place where his Dark Mark had once been. "You see, you made me. You Marked me. And now, one of us has to die."

Voldemort nodded. "I fear you are correct. I only knew the first three lines. You are right, Harry. I chose you. It was either you or the Longbottom boy, but I chose you. I had planned to kill you that night, but something stayed my hand. I know now that it was destiny." He set his cup aside. Harry had not touched his at all. "However, I see another way out. Come back home, son. Together, we will be unstoppable, just as we once were. But, with the Prophecy says, we must die by the other's hand. If we don't kill each other, we'll be invincible. Immortal."

Harry shook his head. "That's your fear, not mine. I don't wish to be immortal. I'm not afraid to die."

"All men fear death, Harry," Voldemort countered. "It is an inborn fear. We strive for life, for power and for immortality."

Harry shook his head. "No, it is the unknown that we fear. But you, you fear death, you fear the darkness. You are nothing but a scared little boy inside a grown man's body."

Voldemort's smile fell away and he glared at Harry. "I do not fear the dark, boy. I control it. I am the dark."

Harry smirked. "Who are you trying to convince? Me? Or yourself? You will never understand or be a part of the dark like I am. You merely adopted the dark. _I_ was born in it; molded by it. I didn't see the light until I was already a man, and by then it was nothing to me but _blinding_!*" He slammed his fist down on the table between them. "Think about it. I've torn your organization to shreds. Killed most of your followers, and those that yet live are locked away in a living hell. A place even your long arm cannot reach them. Even with your manipulations, I still have reduced you to nothing. The shadows betray you because they belong to _me_!"

Voldemort stood up and Harry followed suit, wand held ready in his hand. Voldemort looked down on him from his considerable height but Harry was not intimidated. "So be it then. The Boy-Who-Lived, come to _die_." He sneered as he drew his wand, the pale, slender strip of wood gleaming in the relative darkness of the room.

Evening was upon them and the only light came from the fireplace and a few candles. Harry glanced at the fireplace and saw that the fake Horcrux was still there. Or at least he hoped it was the fake and that Voldemort didn't know that he knew. He didn't hold out _much_ hope for that, but he had a little. Barty was a true Slytherin and wouldn't give up an advantage, even it was over his master; _especially_ if it was over his master.

"I should have killed you when you were a baby," Voldemort continued, still not raising his wand.

Harry nodded. "Yes, you should have. But you didn't. Your arrogance got the better of you, Tom. You thought you could deny fate. Destiny. Unfortunately, whether we believe it or not, we are slaves to it. Once we know our fate we are doomed to it. By trying to prevent the Prophecy, you only assured its fulfillment."

Voldemort's lip curled in an angry sneer. "Be that as it may be, boy, you will not leave here alive. You are no match for me, and your friends won't save you!" As he snarled the last word, he made a sudden slashing motion with his wand and a powerful shock-wave of magic exploded out from him, reducing the table and both chairs to kindling.

Harry barely had time to react as he threw up the strongest shield he could manage, and even then he was still thrown backwards to land hard on the floor, the breath rushing from his lungs at the impact.

Harry gasped and groaned as he fought to catch his breath and return to his feet. Voldemort's cold laugh filled the room and Harry looked back at him as he got his feet back under him. He cast a quick glance around and saw Xeno and Arnold laying on the floor, not moving.

"Oh, they aren't dead yet," Voldemort told him, stalking forward like a cat who had found a bird with a broken wing. "They'll suffer first for daring to think they could stand against me. Then, they will all die. Just as you will do. But first, _Crucio_!"

Harry screamed as his body was suddenly overwhelmed with the feeling like he was being consumed by invisible fires. He thrashed and twitched, his eyes screwed shut against the agony.

"Well, this brings back memories," Voldemort said, looking down at Harry with malice in his eyes. "I seem to recall being in this position before. Yes, you were but a child then. Oh, how time does fly." As if to emphasize this metaphor, he flicked his wand and Harry was once again sailing through the air. This time, he crashed against the wall before falling back to the floor.

He whimpered as he felt the Cruciatus lift off of him but the dual impact of the wall and floor did little to alleviate his suffering.

"You call me arrogant," Voldemort hissed, lifting Harry back off the ground and pulling him across the room toward him with magic. "How hypocritical. You walk in here," he slammed Harry against the ground, then lifted him back up, "you insult me," he slammed him again, "you boast," and again, "you sing your own praises," and again, "you act so superior," and again, "but you are nothing. Nothing but a _weak_ ," slam, " _pathetic_ ," slam, " _ungrateful_ ," slam, " _child_!" He dropped Harry to the ground with a lazy wave of his wand. "You dare to stand against your master? I created you. Without me, you are _nothing_."

Harry was amazing that he had somehow managed to keep a hold on his wand through all of that. He crawled weakly trying to push himself up off the ground. Voldemort watch him with a look of sadistic amusement on his face.

He pointed his wand at Harry and opened his mouth, just then the doors opened and Nymphadora, Bill and Charlie entered. They took one look at Harry and the others all downed on the floor and immediately began throwing curses at Voldemort, who batted them all aside with barely a flick of his wrist.

"Fools," the Dark Lord scoffed, downing the three of them with a silent blast of magic that threw them against the walls in opposite directions of each other.

By now, Harry had managed to get to his knees. He could feel blood dripping down his face and into his eyes from a wound on his head. He was also pretty sure that his nose was bleeding. Curious, he lifted a shaking hand up to his face and touched it, feeling the warm, sticky blood there. He lifted his hand back and found it covered in red.

He looked up and found Voldemort standing over him. "You cannot beat me, Harry, and you know it." He knelt down in front of Harry and grabbed him by the hair, dragging him forward so that he could whisper in his ear. "Just give up," he said, his voice soft and enticing, almost loving. "Just lay back and accept your defeat. I'll make it quick. Painless. Lord Voldemort is merciful. It can all come to an end, just say it. Say you surrender. Ask me for mercy, and I shall give it. I'll even spare that filthy little mudblood of yours. Just give up."

Harry listened to the voice in his ear but for whatever reason, he could not bring himself to heed it. It whispered and promised of peace, the eternal rest, the sweet release of death from this hell that was life, but he refused to answer it. He had too much to live for. He couldn't just lay down and die. Not now.

Voldemort leaned back and looked his would-be son in the eyes. He could see the defiance there. "It would appear that your body will be broken first, and then I shall have to crush your spirit. You will die, oh yes, but not yet. First, you shall watch all of your friends die, one by one. Then, lastly, I shall take your mudblood like the whore she is, right in front of you. And you will watch. Then, when I have had my way, she shall die, and you will follow." His eyes were cold and cruel and Harry had no doubts that this was no empty threat.

Harry tried to respond, but his throat was dry and he couldn't get his tongue to work.

"Who shall we kill first?" Voldemort asked, standing back up. He flicked his wand and Nymphadora was dragged across the floor to lay at his feet. She cried out as she lost her wand and was left staring up at the face of Lord Voldemort. He aimed his own wand down at her and she whimpered, unable to move.

"Harry," she called out, her voice pleading with him to help her.

Harry raised his wand to do so but Voldemort was faster and batted him down before turning back to the young auror.

Though she would later deny it, Nymphadora Tonks began to cry in fear. "Any last words before I kill you, little one?"

Her lip trembled and her voice failed her, but, she was saved from responding by a familiar sound. A raven's cry.

Voldemort looked up at the black bird as it soared into the room and settled on a bit of broken furniture. It looked at Voldemort and cawed loudly, clicking its beak.

Voldemort looked at the bird as if he had seen a ghost. " _You_. You _dare_ return here?"

Harry was confused as the bird laughed back in its unnervingly human way. Then, before his eyes, the bird began to grow until it was no longer a bird, but a man. A man with long dark hair and beard, with pale skin and steely eyes. And a scar on his forehead, small and faint, in the shape of a rune.

"Regulus," Harry whispered, looking at the man he had long believed to be dead.

Regulus glanced at Harry but didn't say anything, not taking his eyes off of the Dark Lord for long.

"It would seem that rumors of your demise have been greatly exaggerated," Voldemort sneered, looking at the wayward Death Eater.

"You should know better than to listen to rumors, Tom," Regulus countered.

Voldemort laughed. "Even now you stand defiant, but you are unarmed."

"Unarmed, perhaps, but alone he is not!" another voice called out from behind them.

Harry and Voldemort both looked over to see Barty standing in the doorway with a leather sack in his hand and the dead form of Nagini laying on the floor at his feet. Harry looked behind him, trying to see if Hermione were with him, but she was nowhere to be seen. Where was she?

Barty kicked the dead snake. "Sorry about that, but she was awfully ugly. Bloody bint tried to bite me." He _tsk_ ed in mock sadness. "Such a shame. I liked her...eh, not really. I shouldn't lie like that. Reggie is always nagging me about that bad habit."

"Barty Crouch," Voldemort said dangerously. "You dare to betray me?"

Barty shrugged. "You say dare like it was some big thing. Quite easy really. You're a right bastard." He tossed the bag he was carrying on the floor, the contents spilling out onto the stones. It was the Horcruxes. "Now, I think you've lived long enough, wouldn't you say so, Reggie?" He drew his wand and pointed it at the Horcruxes. " _Fiendfyre_!"

A spout of demonic flame spewed forth from the end of the wand and took the form of a serpent, then coiled itself around the Horcruxes. The room was suddenly filled with screaming. Each of the Horcruxes were letting out a terrible wailing and Voldemort himself added to the din by loosing an enraged roar as his soul anchors were consumed and reduced to nothing.

A sudden rumbled shook the entire building.

Regulus looked at the dust that was now falling from the ceiling. "The Aurors are here," he said. He looked at Harry. "Time to finish it."

Voldemort barely dodged as Regulus fired a silent, wandless Killing Curse at him, he turned toward the former Death Eater with rage in his eyes. "I WILL KILL YOU ALL!"

His murderous shout was cut short as a flash of green light struck him from behind. Voldemort's eyes went wide as the light left them and then collapsed to the floor, his wand clattering out of his lifeless fingers.

Harry lowered his retrieved wand and let it slip between his own fingers to the ground. It was over. Finally, it was all over. Voldemort was dead. At last...he was free.

"Bloody hell!"

Barty's concerned shout drew his attention away from the corpse of his enemy. The Fiendfyre, it seemed, was no longer under his control and was now spreading through the room. He cursed and threw his wand away, the flames still spouting from the end in a steady stream. He drew another wand, the Elder Wand, and began levitating the fallen forms of Bill, Charlie, Xeno and Arnold out of the room. He rushed out with them and then returned a moment later, lifting Nymphadora up and leading her out as well while she leaned heavily against him.

While he was gone, Regulus went to Harry and lifted him off the ground with a pair of strong hands, stopping momentarily and picking something up off the floor and stuffing it in his pocket.

"You're dead," Harry managed to whisper as he leaned on his old friend. He could feel tears in his eyes.

Regulus looked a bit guilty but he pulled one of Harry's arms around him and began to carry him out of the room as the flames spread even further. "I'll explain it all later, Harry, I promise."

Barty met them at the doorway and took Harry's other arm and the two men all but carried him out of the burning house. Harry looked around through half-closed eyes and realized that everyone was already out here. All of those that had been in the dungeon still were freed and on the lawn.

"Where's Hermione?" Harry managed to ask. His entire body hurt and he was sure he had more than one broken bone from the beating he had received at Voldemort's hand, but none of that was important; he had to know that she was safe.

"She's safe, mate," Barty assured him. "Regulus and I made sure of it. That Elf of yours took her somewhere safe."

There was another great rumble and Harry saw the wards surrounding the house crumble. The three men looked up at the receding dome of magic that was now visible in its destruction. Harry remembered Regulus saying something about Aurors being here and wondered how they had known where to come.

Barty looked across at Regulus. "You need to get out of here, brother. You can't be caught here."

Regulus shook his head. "I'm not leaving you two again. I've stayed in the shadows long enough."

Barty growled. "Don't be stupid. You know what will happen if you're caught. They'll lock us up in Azkaban for sure. Or they'll just kill us. I'd rather one of us at least make it out of here. The Aurors will have already set up their own wards to keep us from getting away, but you can escape, as Rune. Go!"

Regulus looked at his best friend and then at the boy who he had been watching over for so long now. He had a pained expression on his face. Finally, he nodded and pulled out from under Harry's arm. He grabbed Harry by the face with both hands and looked him in the eyes. "You did good, kid. You did good." He touched his forehead to Harry's, took the Elder Wand from Barty, then stepped back, shrinking into the form of Rune the Raven, cawed once, then took flight, disappearing into the distance.

Before Harry had time to wonder where he was going, he and Barty were surrounded on all sides by Aurors, wands trained on them. Harry was too hurt and tired to even think about resisting as Savage walked up to him. "It's all over, Harry," the tall, long-haired Auror said, looking down at him and Barty.

He motioned with his hand and suddenly Harry felt himself being yanked away from Barty. Without the support, he dropped to his knees and he felt himself being bound with magic-suppressing shackles. "Sorry, mate," Harry heard a familiar Welsh accent say from behind him and caught a faint scent of cigarette smoke. Robards. He looked over and saw Barty being shackled by Proudfoot. He met his best friend turned enemy turned savior's eyes and silently sent him a thank you before he felt the darkness creep in on the edges of his vision. Without his magic to sustain him, he was fading fast into exhaustion. Blinking to try and keep himself conscious, he saw a rat crawling away into the grass and frowned. He shook his head, thinking he must be hallucinating. His last thought before he lost consciousness was of Hermione and whether she was really safe.

 **XXXX**

 **A/N: All right. There's still an epilogue to go which will detail the trial of Harry and his sentencing. I want to thank everyone who stuck with me this far and hope to see you all when my next story is ready. I'll be working on the sequel to this, but I'm not sure when it will be ready. I have trouble with sequels and I want to make sure its the best I can make it.**

 ***The line from The Dark Knight Rises was a left over piece from when this story was in answer to a challenge called the "Darkness is my ally challenge", that line was part of the challenge and I decided to go ahead and leave it in in reference to that, and because it's just an awesome line.**

 **As always: Leave me some love!**


	38. Epilogue: Hell or Home?

**Epilogue: Hell or Home?**

"Harrald James Potter, you stand here before the Wizengamot, accused of crimes against the Ministry and the populace it is sworn to protect. The charges are as follows: Murder in the first degree, thirty-two counts; use of Unforgivable Curses, numerous counts; destruction of private property, numerous counts; destruction of public property, numerous counts; destruction of Ministry property, numerous counts; consorting with an illegal organization; terrorism; kidnapping, numerous counts; theft, numerous counts; trespassing, numerous counts; breaking and entering, numerous counts; treason..."

Harry rolled his eyes as the list of crimes continued. He gazed drolly at the man who was reading all of this out from his place beside the Minister's podium in the dark courtroom in the deepest levels of the Ministry. Honestly, Percy just liked the sound of his own voice far too much.

He let his eyes wander around to the stands and those sitting there watching. There were quite a few people there and he could not see an empty space anywhere. There were a flock of reporters to one side of the room and every few seconds a camera flash lit up the room. The sound of several quills all scratching away at once was a minor annoyance that he could easily tune out; a perk of having spent several months as a teacher.

No, it was the faces of the people he knew in the audience that drew his eye. His mother was there, and so was his father. Hermione was there too. She sat next to his mother, doing her best not to show how scared she was for him. They both knew that this could very well end in his death. And the chances of him fighting his way out were next to zero as he was still restrained with magic-suppressing shackles.

Xeno and Luna were there, in the stands with the reporters. He smiled lightly, knowing that at least one publication would report everything factually and truthfully. The same could not be said of the Prophet, or Witch Weekly or any of the other dozens of pointless papers in the Wizarding World. Hell, there was even a representative from _Der Morgenstern,_ the premier German newspaper, in attendance. It would seem that his capture and trial was worthy of international attention. He would have been flattered, if he wasn't so annoyed with the whole thing.

Barty had already been put on trial, just before him. His sentencing had been quick. His own father had passed the judgment and sentenced Barty to life in Azkaban for his crimes. Harry knew that he would be lucky to get the same outcome. They might just say to hell with it and push him through the Veil; the Department of Mysteries was only a short walk from here after all.

Bill, Charlie, Fleur, Nymphadora; they were all here. Turns out, Harry figured, that none of them could be accused without James and Sirius implementing themselves in the deaths of at least four people. Hermione was safe too. They had already said that Harry was the one who had killed Ron and Ginny and if they tried to go back on that to accuse her, they would again implement themselves. That was a relief to Harry. At least Hermione and the others were free and safe. He trusted his mother to take care of her in his absence, or likely death.

He caught Hermione's eye and smiled at her, letting his boredom show through. She smiled back as best as she could but her fear and sadness were still plain to see to anyone who bothered to look. He saw Lily reach over and grasp Hermione's hand in a show of support; the younger witch didn't relax much, but she looked grateful for the effort.

Harry became aware that Percy was no longer droning on and on and turned his attention back to the man. "Sorry, I wasn't listening. Could you repeat that?"

Percy glared down at him, clutching the scroll of parchment on which Harry's innumerable crimes were detailed so hard that it was crushed in his fist. "How do you plead?" he demanded in a harsh tone.

Harry smirked. "I don't plead," he said matter-of-factually.

There was a general murmur through the room at his unusual response. Some were trying to figure out if it was defiance or something else more sinister.

Bartemius Crouch was not a patient man at the best of times and this was no exception. "Mr. Potter, you stand accused of crimes which are far too numerous to list. Are you guilty or not?"

Harry gave a stern glance at the man. "First off, never address me as 'Mr. Potter'. That's my father, and I hate the bastard. He abandoned me as a child when he fled from Voldemort like a coward. You can torture me, hell, kill me, but don't insult me." The sound of quills intensified as notes were made of Harry's scathing words about his father. "Now, as for my crimes, you have failed to mention that at least fifteen of those murders were of Marked Death Eaters. I would hardly consider that an unlawful killing. And another of those killings was of Voldemort himself. If anything, I just did the job that the Ministry was too weak and incompetent to do. You're welcome, by the way."

Harry's words sparked uproar as the reporters shouted questions about whether or not Harry had really killed Voldemort at the Minister and Crouch.

Crouch was beyond peeved as he bang his gavel repeatedly on the desk in front of him, shouting for silence. Once order had been restored, he glared down at Harry. "You have just admitted to the murder of no less than sixteen individuals. That alone is more than enough to see you to Azkaban for the rest of your days."

Harry shrugged. "You were gonna do that anyway, so what's the point of denying it? Besides, I wanted the people to know who it was that saved them and ended this damned war before you and your useless underlings attempted to claim credit for my hard work. You know what, all of that that your ginger ponce over there read out, yeah, I did it. I did all of it. That is not an admission of guilt. No, if I'm guilty of anything, it's fighting for your people when you were too weak to do so."

Crouch sneered and his nostrils flared at Harry's verbal attacks. "Let the record show that the accused has admitted to all crimes and as such has been found guilty of all charges. Sentence is life in Azkaban. May you live the rest of your days in hell." He slammed the gavel down harder than was necessary. "Court adjourned."

Voices filled the courtroom as the audience stood and began making their way out of the chamber. Harry glanced over to see Hermione collapse into tears. Lily pulled her into a hug and rubbed her back comfortingly while whispering softly into her ear.

Harry felt a pang of guilt flush through him at the pain he was causing Hermione. He knew that he shouldn't have been so defiant toward Crouch and the Ministry, but he was going to be locked up regardless, so he may as well say his piece, he figured. What harm could it do? Where he was going, he was good as dead anyway. No one left Azkaban with much life left in them, if any.

He took the moment to study Hermione, to memorize her. He wanted to be able to remember her face when he was down in the dark. He refused to let himself forget how she looked, ever. He did the same to the others; Luna, Xeno, Charlie, Bill, Fleur, Arnie, Lily, and Nymphadora - the latter of whom was standing not too far from him with Robards, her face a mask of anguish. Robards himself even looked a bit down. Harry sent them both a grin, hoping to lift their spirits a bit. It didn't help.

With a sigh, Robards made his way toward him.

He was pulled out of his silent staring by two pairs of hands hauling him to a standing position. Savage and Williamson stood on either side of him, each holding him by an arm. Robards stepped in and took over Williamson's spot, sending the older man on ahead. Savage was a blank slate, showing no emotion and operating as a machine. Robards, on the other hand, looked sympathetic toward him.

"For what it's worth, mate," Robards, whispered to him. "I'm sorry all of this happened. You did us all a service by killing that bastard. I'll not soon forget that."

Harry met his gaze and nodded in return. At least he knew that the truth was out and there were those within the establishment that knew that truth.

He was led out of the courtroom via a back door. He would not be given any last moments to speak to his loved ones. He would not be marched through the crowd like some spectacle, no matter how much the Minister and his monkeys wanted to gloat about their supposed 'victory'.

He was shoved into a room by Savage. Barty was already there. "One way ticket to hell?" his oldest friend asked.

Harry nodded. "Yep. A bargain price too." He looked at his best friend with narrowed eyes. He was glad to know that Barty really had been his friend and that they had made it through together but he couldn't shake a feeling of betrayal still. Barty and Regulus both had manipulated him towards killing Voldemort. Admittedly, he had been planning to do so anyway, but they had forced the issue and he had had to fight sooner than he had wanted. But, it was only by their timely arrival that he was able to land the killing blow. And Barty himself had destroyed the Horcruxes. He sighed. "You used me," he said.

Barty raised a brow at this. "Come again?"

Harry met his gaze. "You used me. You and Regulus both. You manipulated me into fighting Voldemort. I'm betting Regulus planned it that way from the beginning. Ever since he found out about the Horcruxes. He had to have found out about the Prophecy too. You knew it as well. I know you did. You grabbed the Prophecy in the Department of Mysteries. I know you heard it. So tell me, how are you any different from Voldemort? I was nothing but a weapon to all of you."

Barty shook his head. "You got it all, little brother. You weren't a weapon to us. You were our friend, our brother. You still are. Yeah, we pushed you a little harder than you were comfortable with, but we knew the stakes. We knew it had to be done and quickly. It was only a matter of time before something went wrong. You know how it goes. Anything that can go wrong, will. We couldn't take the chance that something would go wrong. I am sorry, Harry, but it had to be done. And the difference between me and that bastard is that I actually care about you. Hell, I love you, mate. You're my baby brother!"

Harry scowled at the term but said nothing. Barty had been there when he was brought in as a baby so it was an accurate phrasing. That didn't mean he had to like it.

"So, you looking forward to our new home?" Barty asked.

Harry shrugged. "Just another dark hole. Nothing new for me."

Barty suddenly got a very serious expression on his face and Harry thought he saw a flicker of fear in his eyes. This was confirmed by Barty's next words. "What's it like, Harry? Living in darkness?"

Harry sighed and closed his eyes. He pictured himself in the dark, without the one he loved. "Lonely," he said.

Barty nodded solemnly but didn't respond.

"Not to mention boring as hell," Harry added after a pause.

They both chuckled quietly before going silent again.

They stood in silence for a while before the door to the chamber opened and Scrimgeour entered, flanked by Savage and Williamson. In Scrimgeour's hand was a small length of rope. He instructed them to grab hold of it. Barty and Harry did so after exchanging a look. What choice did they have? Savage and Williamson took hold as well and a moment later they were suddenly thrown rather unceremoniously across the great distance between the Ministry and the rocky crags that serves as a shore for Azkaban Island.

The great fortress of Caer Azkaban loomed tall and foreboding like a portent of doom. The black wraiths that were the Dementors circled the place like an enraptured flock of demonic birds, draining what little warmth and joy might have been found here.

"Welcome to hell, boyos," Williamson said, looking at them as they balanced on the wet rocks, the sea churning like a roiling beast around them, soaking them to the bone.

Harry took in the relative darkness of the place and offered a small smirk. "Hell? No, this is home."

Scrimgeour looked at him, unimpressed. "You won't be so flippant after a day here, Mr. Potter, of that I assure you. Even the toughest men are reduced to little more than whimpering children here. You will be no different."

Harry met his gaze, defiant to the end. "I've lived in a hole in the ground since I was a year old and suffered the Cruciatus from Voldemort himself until I was five. Compared to that, this is a vacation." He wasn't sure that would prove true, but he was putting on a brave front; whether it was for himself or for Barty, who was looking a bit pale, he wasn't sure. Maybe both.

Harry and Barty were thrown into cells right next to each other. The cell was confining, with no windows save for the small barred square in the door that allowed the guards to peer through to check in on the prisoners. There was also a small metal flap which he assumed their daily meals would be delivered through.

The locks were slid into place and a metal plate slid over the small window in the door, blocking out all light from the outside.

Harry found a thin bedroll against the wall and settled down on it, closing his eyes. Might as well get comfortable. He wasn't going anywhere for a while.

Taking a deep breath, he let himself relax and slip into himself. They thought that he would be broken by this place, but they were wrong. He was born in darkness. It was part of him. This place, it was full of shadows, and the shadows belonged to him. No, this was not hell. It was home. At least, for now. He smiled, and could almost imagined that he could hear a raven laughing.

 **XXXX**

 **A/N: All right. There it is. This story draws to a close now. Let me know what you think.**

 **Thank you all for sticking with me this long. You are all amazing. Leave me some love.**

 **Until next time, I am Atrocity.**


	39. AN: Sequel

**A/N: All right, ladies and gentlemen, I figured I should let it be known that I am in the works on a sequel. No real details to give out yet but and no set release date but it is in the works. I will say that so far, a few characters have revealed some things to me that I was not prepared for in the planning stages of the story and I am having to adjust myself to understand and explore these ideas.**

 **Now, what I can tell you is that several questions will be answered:**

 **Will Harry ever see the outside of his cell again?**

 **Will Barty and Harry's friendship survive?**

 **What did Regulus pick up off the floor before leaving Malfoy Manor?**

 **What will happen to Pansy and baby Scorpius?**

 **What happened to the Death Eaters that survived?**

 **Will Tonks ever defeat her arch nemesis, the Troll Leg Umbrella Stand?**

 **All of this and more will be addressed in the story tentatively titled DEATHSWORN.**

 **Now, there are a few things I would like to know from you all. First off, what sort of things would you like to see in a sequel to this story? Would the character of Death be someone you'd like to see make a full appearance (and not just regulated to a deleted scene/one-shot; if you haven't ready GOD ON GOD, please do so)? What role should Grindelwald play in this story?**

 **A few things I can confirm for the sequel are:**

 **More POVs, including: Harry, Hermione, Barty, Robards, Tonks.**

 **Further exploration of the concept of the Death Chambers and what role they play in the world.**

 **A stronger, darker Harry.**

 **A possible Hermione/Harry/Tonks love triangle (don't look at me, I didn't plan this; see above where I said some characters decided to reveals a few secrets to me and I'm just having to figure it all out).**

 **So, I would love to hear from you all. Let me know some ideas or thoughts you might have.**

 **Note: The sequel is an optional read; I consider the GOD OF DEATH a finished work, but there are always more stories to tell, and thus the sequel.**


	40. Deathsworn - Sneak Peak

**Hiya, folks! So, I figured I'd be nice – or cruel, depending on how you look at it – and give you all a little sneak peak at the sequel as a Yule gift. Now, this is a slightly abridged version of the beginning of the first chapter, but hey, it's like a preview or something. Anyway, enjoy and Happy Yule (or whatever you all celebrate around this time of year)!**

 **I. Gawain Robards' Bad Day**

Gawain Robards was not having a good day, that much alone was a certainty.

It had all started normally enough. He woke up after a night of drinking stout beers and cheap whiskey, accompanied by even cheaper cigarettes, and dragged himself to the shower to wash away the dingy feeling that usually came with such a short but heavy sleep. Following this, he had ventured to the kitchen of his Welsh country house outside of his hometown of Swansea, idly running his fingers over the pictures hanging in the hall, as he always did, and set the kettle to a boil while lighting up another cigarette and taking a long, glorious drag, exhaling with a soft sigh.

When the kettle started to scream he added the tea leaves and let it steep for a few minutes before pouring it into a mug. He added nothing to it, as it already had rosemary mixed in with the tea leaves and that was all he needed.

He had finished his tea, washed the cup and flooed to the Ministry as he always did, arriving a bit later than everyone else, as was his habit, and started making his way through the still-crowded Atrium.

To his right, a fireplace flared and out came a young witch who, rather gracefully, didn't even try to have footing and landed flat on her face.

He paused and shook his head at the clumsy girl. Had it not been for her clothes though, he doubted he would have even recognized her; it also helped though that she worked in the same Department as him.

"You really need to learn to walk, mate," he told the girl in his dry Welsh lilt as he tugged her upright. "Jaysus, Tonks, you look like shit."

Nymphadora Tonks did indeed look terrible. Her hair, usually a bright pink and short or shoulder length and purple, was now long and a sort of black/brown mixture that looked like it had been thought about in regards to a brush but little more than that thought was ever done about it. Needless to say, she looked a mess.

Now, this happened to the girl once a week, so it came as no surprise to Robards to see her this way, but that didn't stop him from worrying. He liked Tonks; she was about the only friend he had left in the Auror Office these days.

It had been worse after that whole Harry Potter fiasco two years ago. The girl had been positively devastated by the sentencing of her friend. Robards himself still felt a bit ill when thinking about it; it was not his finest hour. And that set him apart from the rest of the Auror Office, who were all on the side of Crouch, Scrimgeour and Savage on this one.

Tonks grumbled something rather unflattering under her breath at his comments but straightened up and righted herself. Robards waved his wand at her briefly and her hair became a bit less of a rat's nest, but she barely noticed, trudging on toward the lift without so much as a by-your-leave.

Gawain stuffed his wand away and followed after the young woman, shaking his head.

He stepped into the lift with her and told the attendant to take them to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Level Two.

"So, I take it you went and saw him again this morning?" he asked the downcast Auror at his side. Not that he needed and answer to the question; he already knew.

"Yeah," she answered softly, eyes directed at the floor.

"How is he?"

Tonks shrugged. "Same as usual. Just sits there, staring at the wall, doesn't talk, doesn't even look in my direction. Doesn't recognize me." The last word was spoken with so much sadness that it made Robards frown.

It was no secret in the Office that Tonks had bent a few rules and called in a few favors and gotten herself a pass to Azkaban. She went and visited Harry Potter every week, the same day and time, every time. Thursday, eight in the morning, before work, during the guard shift change. She had done so since the second week of his imprisonment.

Robards felt kind of bad for the girl. She had not been able to let go of her guilt at what had happened. She had been right there in the pit with him and the other Aurors on duty when Harry was sentenced in that farce of a trial. She had been right there and not been able to do anything. He also knew that she had been at the Malfoy Manor when they had stormed the place and taken Harry Potter and Barty Crouch Jr. prisoner. Why she was there he didn't know and no information was to be found on the matter, but he had his theories.

It was the same, yet different with James and Sirius. They had been there too, but Tonks and them did not get along at all now; which was a switch because it used to be that Tonks looked up to her cousin and James, now there was naught but resentment between them. Gawain was a wee bit of a people-watcher when he had nothing to do and there were a lot of interesting things he had noticed about the people he worked with over the years.

The day didn't really seem to get any better or worse as he sat down at his desk and began flipping through the various case files that had found their way to his station since his last time being there the previous night. Nothing special or difficult. Just your run-of-the-mill petty crime and some lady who claimed that there were dark wizards performing a ritual in a cave near her home; something about seeing flashing lights coming from the cave at night. That might be something to look into later. He doubted that there was anything going on but well, this was his job. Whatever it was, he was duty-bound to at least give it a look.

At this point however, was when things decided to change for the worse.

He was idly reading over the statement given by the woman in the file when he heard his name being called.

He looked up from the file to see Savage standing at the corner of his desk, looking down at him with that smile that was so insincere that it was practically mocking.

"What do you want?" Gawain asked, looking back down at the case file in his hand.

"I need you to go to Azkaban," Savage answer in that strange accent of his; was it even English?

Robards glanced back up at the man and felt the urge to punch him in his perfectly groomed head. How the man managed to look so damned impeccable with that long hair and thick beard he had no idea. "Why? That's not my area."

Savage's smile became a smirk and he chuckled softly without opening his mouth. "We've apparently got some dead prisoners. Need you to go and take a look, see what caused it."

Robards scowled. "Not interested, mate."

Savage's smile turned almost feral, finally baring his teeth. "I think you will find it quite interesting when you hear who they are."

"Yeah? Who's that then?"

"Harry Potter and Barty Crouch Jr.," Savage answered in almost a whisper.

Robards' head snapped up so fast he felt and heard his neck crack. "Beg pardon?"

"You heard me," Savage said, still smiling. "Harry Potter and Barty Crouch Jr. are both dead."

 **XXXX**


End file.
